


Bombshell Blond (Wired Up To Detonate)

by slashter



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Angst, Blood and Violence, Blow Jobs, Face-Fucking, Face-Sitting, Fluff, Frottage, Guns, M/M, Minor Character Death, NEITHER ZAYN NOR NIALL DIE!!!, Rimming, Spies & Secret Agents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-11-03 19:20:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 51,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10973715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slashter/pseuds/slashter
Summary: “Correct me if I’m wrong,” Zayn starts, leaning forward and resting his chin on his hands. “But you look a little...nervous?”Niall scoffs but Zayn can see the worry underneath the surface. “Consider yourself corrected.”Zayn just raises an eyebrow at that, and eventually Niall groans, rubbing at his face. “Fuck. Okay, look, I’m not good at this whole--” he waves his hands around, “--wooing thing. I’m not someone who goes on dates and, like, does all that. I’ve never had the time to do that, even.”“You’ve never been in a relationship?” Zayn asks, a bit surprised.Niall blushes. “Never really cared about stuff like that, until I met you.”[Or the one where Zayn's a spy, Niall's his target, and the whole world's their playground]





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Okay wow! I can't believe it's another Big Bang already!! I know I've been slacking off when it comes to writing fic, but hopefully this makes up for it--I'm pretty sure this is the biggest fic I've ever written and even I'm amazed that I managed to pull it all together, haha.
> 
> This fic is kind of close to my heart because I'd thought up of the idea ages ago in college and I'd written down so many little pieces of it over the years, pieces that I had to search for and compile into something cohesive. I'm really glad I was able to get this work completed and I hope you all enjoy it.
> 
> Also keep an eye out in the fic for some amazing artwork by the wonderfully talented [Karely](http://karelydraws.tumblr.com)! 
> 
> **WARNING:** I tagged these, but I want to reiterate that there are a lot of mentions of guns, blood, and violence in this fic, including scenes that involve people dying. I know it might seem a little "extra" or whatever, but this is, at its heart, an action-themed piece of writing and I didn't want to lose the personality of the fic by eliminating all mentions of these subjects. Thanks!!
> 
> ~Title is from Bombshell Blonde by Owl City
> 
>  **Disclaimer:**  
>  I don't know anyone in/involved with One Direction. This work is purely a piece of fiction.

\------------

The first time Zayn goes on a mission, it’s by complete accident.

There’s some sort of chaos outbreak at HQ, and before he knows it, Zayn--an untrained, unpaid, unsure intern--is swept into a sleek black SUV and sent off to an unknown location. He looks around, not too optimistic at the sight of the other nervous faces in the car. When the vehicle finally stops, the doors are pulled open by a very gruff-looking man, his face streaked with blood and his arm in a rough-looking sling.

“These all we got?” he asks, a stern look on his face, and the driver of the car, who’s by the man’s side at this point, nods nervously.

“Everybody else is basically just custodial staff. These guys are the newest batch of interns. Haven’t even completed A1 yet.”

“Fuck,” the man says, pinching the bridge of his nose. He lets out a sigh and then looks up at the occupants of the car, at all the scared young faces in front of him. “All right. We’ll make the best of this situation, I suppose. Have any of you ever even _held_ a gun?”

There’s no real movement in the car until Zayn and a thin-looking, pale guy across from him raise their hands. The man nods in acknowledgement.

“Okay. Riach? Get these two some weapons. Make sure to suit them up well. We want them to stay alive, okay? Keep them on the borders. Let them target the cronies.”

“Right, sir. You two,” the driver says, gesturing Zayn and the other boy over. “Come with me.”

“I’ll find jobs for the rest of these kids,” the man says. “Let’s hope Horan doesn’t completely destroy this organization today.”

Zayn gulps and steps out of the car, following the skinny boy in front of him, and keeps his head down, trying to focus all his attention on the weaving pattern of the cobblestones underneath him.

“Hey. Intern,” a voice calls, and Zayn looks up at the driver, who’s giving him a pitying expression. “First rule. Never look down. Keep looking ahead. I know it can be tough, and we never wanted you guys to have to jump into this like this, but...just make sure to be aware of your surroundings, all right?”

Zayn nods, and the driver leads them into a seemingly decrepit building, pulling open the door easily before quickly sliding a gun out of nowhere and aiming it directly in front of him.

“We’ve got new interns to help,” he says, into the supposed darkness, and then Zayn blinks and suddenly the area in front of him is lit up. He jumps at the sudden shock of seeing maybe fifteen, twenty men all aiming very dangerous-looking guns at him, and catches one of them rolling his eyes.

“For fuck’s sake, Riach, use the password!”

The driver--Zayn can call him Riach now, he supposes--chuckles. “Now where’s the fun in that?”

A man walks up to them, pulling Riach into a tight hug, whispering fiercely into his ear. Zayn strains to hear what they’re saying and immediately regrets it.

“Everyone’s freaking the fuck out, bro,” the guy hisses, and his voice breaks a bit. “A shitton of people are down. Some of the best guys, too. Horan’s merciless, I’m telling you.”

The guy pulls away, and the first thing Zayn notices is that there are tears in his eyes. The second thing is that he looks strikingly like Riach, and Zayn realizes that they’re probably actually related. Brothers, perhaps?

Riach sighs and blinks up at the ceiling for a couple seconds before shaking himself off and pulling Zayn forward.

“Get this kid suited up. He’s one of our best interns, and he’s actually shot a gun before. He might be useful. He--” Riach pauses, looking down at Zayn inquisitively. “What’s your name again?”

“Zayn,” Zayn says, then realizes that things here aren’t really on a first-name basis. “Um. Malik.”

Riach smirks. “I was gonna say, you look like you could be our cousin.”

The other man rolls his eyes but pulls Zayn over to his side. “Got it. What about the other kid?”

Riach looks behind him to the pale intern, who looks like he might’ve already pissed in his pants. “I’ll...find something else for this one. Payne told me to get him a gun too, but he seems more like a long-distance kind of guy than a close-combat one, y’know?”

Riach’s brother nods and is about to walk away when Riach reaches a hand out and clamps it on the other man’s arm. “Ant. Stay safe, yeah?” he says, quietly, and Zayn looks away from the two of them, feeling like he’s intruding on something too personal, too intense.

“I always do, bro, don’t I?” Ant replies, pulling Riach down and kissing his forehead. He grabs Zayn’s arm and yanks him down the hall and into another room.

 

“All right,” Ant says, shuffling through a box. “You’re kind of small, but not too bad--here.”

He pulls out what Zayn can only assume is a bulletproof vest, and Zayn slips it on quickly over his shirt. Shit. This is a new dress top his mom had bought him for the internship. She’s gonna kill him. Y’know, if the bad guy doesn’t do it first.

“We usually have, like, bulletproof skinsuits, which I’m sure you’ve heard of, but we’re running a bit low on those right now,” Ant says, as he scuttles around the room, picking objects up and tossing them around till he finds what he’s looking for. “Okay.”

He walks over to Zayn and hands him two guns, which feel suspiciously heavy, as well as a handful of magazines. He slides two each into the pockets on the side of Zayn’s vest and puts an extra one into Zayn’s pocket.

“You want as many of these on you as possible,” Ant explains, and then pulls out a switchblade. “Watch. Learn,” he says, flicking a button on the side so that the blade shoots out. Ant clips it back and clicks a couple things. “I put the safety on so you don’t shank yourself accidentally. Remember that.”

He pats Zayn down a couple times, then finally slides one gun into his waistband and puts the other in his hand. “These’re fully loaded. The one in your pants has the safety on. The one in your hands does not. I trust you’ve shot a gun before?”

Zayn nods. He’d had minor target practice at the gun range with his dad. He’s not too bad--but not perfect either.

“Good. Any questions?” Ant asks, even though his expression seems to imply that the last thing he wants is to have to answer a question.

“Um,” Zayn starts, and Ant sighs exasperatedly. “What exactly am I supposed to _do_?”

 

\------------

 

The gunfire in the place is astounding. Zayn wonders if he’s even going to pass a field agent hearing exam by the end of this, then curses as he feels a bullet whizz by his ear, too close for comfort. He ducks down, scrambling along the wall until he finds a random potted plant to hide behind.

He’s only on his second round of bullets--he doesn’t think his first one did any real harm to anyone, which he doesn’t know if he feels good or bad about. He’d basically just shot into the darkness, keeping an eye out for ‘anyone in blue,’ as Ant had said.

Apparently there’s some immensely bad guy here by the name of Horan, some sort of evil Irish mastermind, and he’s trying to destroy the Service by killing every agent he can get his hands on. Zayn’s mission is to try and keep as many people alive as possible. No pressure.

He takes a deep breath and rolls out from behind the plant, freezing up immediately at the flash of blue in front of him, before realizing that he’s not facing an enemy, he’s right behind him. He moves slowly so he can see past the gunman’s shoulder and catches the eye of the agent in front of the gunman, the one who’s got a gun pointed right at him.

The agent locks eyes with Zayn for a millisecond before looking back at the gunman, and Zayn has to give him credit for not letting his expression change. Zayn brings his gun up, his heart thudding, and presses the tip to the back of the gunman’s skull.

“Drop it,” he says, surprised at how steady his own voice is, and he feels the man freeze up and immediately let go of his weapon. Zayn waits till he hears the weapon clatter on the ground before hitting the man with the butt of his gun, hard, watching him crumple onto the floor.

“Thanks, mate,” the agent says, and Zayn looks up and watches him take the abandoned gun, check for bullets, and _tsk_ disappointedly. “Only a few shots left.”

The man stands up, brushing his shirt off, and then looks at Zayn curiously. “Are you new?”

“I’m an intern,” Zayn says defensively, blushing a bit. “Sorry if I--did I do okay?”

“You did fine, kid,” the agent assures him, then cocks the gun in his hand. Before Zayn can comprehend what’s happening, there’s the sound of a gunshot and the man on the floor twitches a couple times before going still.

“You--you _killed_ \--”

“If he had woken up, he would’ve offed me too. It’s kill or be killed here, intern,” the agent says, shoving Zayn back, and Zayn almost fights him until he realizes that the agent’s trying to prevent the dead man’s blood from getting onto Zayn’s shoes. The man leans in close so that he’s eye level with Zayn. “Don’t have mercy on any of these fuckers. Remember that.”

Zayn’s heart is jackrabbiting in his chest by now, but he nods, and the man’s gone within a second. Zayn looks at the dead man on the ground, at the blood and brain matter spread out around him, and feels a wave of nausea sweep over him. He runs over to the potted plant and empties up his breakfast into the soil.

“This way!” a voice cries, and Zayn can’t tell if it’s enemies or agents, so he stands up, wiping his mouth off on his sleeve--fuck, his mom’s really going to end him now--and runs ahead, finding a small notch in the wall that he’s able to slide himself into. At least _some_ good comes from him being this skinny.

“Updates!” a man orders, and Zayn blinks out to see a huge group of men clad in blue--thank god he hid--standing in a huddle.

“Horan 1 is secure in the tower,” another man says, and the group nods. “Horan 2 is out on the field, presently active, as far as we know. Horan 3 is--” the man sighs. “He’s missing. He got rid of his tracking device and now we don’t know where he is.”

“Jesus _fuckin_ \--” the first man says, kicking a wall out of frustration. “We were supposed to keep track of him! That little fucker, I swear to _god_ I’m gonna--”

“Roberts, calm down,” a third voice adds. “We’ll find him. The kid’s too young to know what’s going on here. As long as he stays down, he’ll make his location known to us by the end of this. We’re winning, anyways. Cap says the Service doesn’t even have that many guys out on the field right now. Says they had to bring in _interns_ to help them out.”

The group chuckles a bit, then Roberts sighs. “All right. Let’s keep heading North then. Everyone loaded and ready?” The group nods. “Good. Let’s move!”

Zayn stays absolutely still, his mind buzzing. There’s _three_ Horans? No wonder this place is decimated. He has to get this news to someone, someone important--what did Riach say the name of that first, important-looking agent was? Payne?

Zayn’s so involved in this thought process that he almost misses the small noise of a body moving next to his on his left. He freezes up and turns immediately--quite a feat, considering how narrow the space is--and aims his gun into the darkness.

“Who’s there?” he says, trying to keep his voice calm. As far as he knows, though, he has the upper hand, and the person hiding away in here doesn’t have a weapon. No mercy, he reminds himself, and cocks his gun. “Who the _fuck_ is there?” he cries, and steps back reflexively as a body moves around.

There’s no real light, so Zayn reaches around and finds the switchblade, which he’s pretty sure has some sort of flashlight in its handle. He’s proven right when he finds the small LED at the edge of the surface, and pushes it on before shining it into the darkness.

There’s a small _eep_ of shock before Zayn finds himself looking down at a young boy, probably his age, and just as skinny. He’s blonde, though his hair looks dyed, and his eyes are a bright, icy blue.

“Please don’t shoot me,” he says, and stands up so he’s at full height--which is just about as tall as Zayn. Of course.

Zayn looks him up and down, and he’s not dressed in the enemy’s clothing, but he’s definitely not an intern either. In fact, he’s only in jeans and a hoodie, and he looks as if he just walked into the building by accident and found himself in the middle of a battlefield.

“What’s your name?” Zayn says, and the kid smiles thankfully.

“Niall. What’s yours?” he asks, but Zayn doesn’t answer. Now he _really_ needs to find agent Payne. He needs to tell him about the two extra Horans, needs to drop off this unarmed kid to him too, needs to--

“I know a shortcut,” Niall says, and Zayn looks over at him, eyebrows raised.

“How?”

“It’s how I got here in the first place,” Niall shrugs, leaning against the wall. “My dad owns this building, sometimes I sneak out here to waste time. Looks like I picked the wrong day to do it this time, though. There’s a lot of gross stuff going on out there.”

Zayn scowls. “Tell me about it,” he says. Who is this kid? If he’s lying, Zayn could be getting himself into a whole mess of trouble by just talking to him like this. But if he’s telling the truth, and his dad really owns the building, then that must mean--

“You’re Payne’s son?” he asks, and Niall gives him a curious look before smirking.

“Yeah.”

It makes sense, since Payne is the president of the Service, and his son would obviously know the ins and outs of this building--he was practically raised in it, or so Zayn had heard. He’d also heard that Payne’s son was broad and athletic, though, and the boy in front of him looks wiry and a bit lean. Damn, those workplace rumors could get really out of hand; this kid doesn’t even look like he’s been boxing for five years. Payne’s son was supposed to be a great agent, one of the youngest to ever be on the field, but Zayn doesn’t know how much he believes that anymore.

“I hate to sound like a buzzkill, but d’you mind turning your light off? It’s only going to attract more unwanted attention.”

Zayn blushes a bit, because the boy is right--how could he have been so careless? And he turns the light off, blanketing the two of them in darkness again. It’s almost comforting.

“So what do we do now?” Niall asks, and Zayn closes his eyes and tries to think.

“Well. We could just wait in here until it all stops and then hopefully try to find our way out of this mess.”

“Spoken like a true newbie.”

“Don’t act like you know me, kid.”

Niall laughs. “‘Kid’? I’m your age, _pal_. Please.”

Zayn sighs. “You could always show me that shortcut you were talking about.”

“Now _that’s_ an idea. I like that one. Let’s do that.”

Zayn rolls his eyes and sticks his head out of the place they’re wedged in, looking around. It seems all clear, so he slides himself out and pastes himself to the wall. “Come out,” he hisses, and waits for Niall to copy him, but the boy just walks out casually, standing in the middle of the hall like he’s completely safe.

“What are you _doing_ ?” Zayn asks, through gritted teeth. “I thought you _didn’t_ want to get shot!”

“I know what I’m doing. I’m a Payne, remember?” Niall says, in almost a mocking tone of voice. He strolls down the hallway until he finds an unlocked door. “No one’s going to shoot me. Now c’mere.”

Zayn swears under his breath but then runs across the hall, sliding into the room and locking the door. “Now what?”

“Now this,” Niall says, and lunges forward, pressing his mouth to Zayn’s. It takes Zayn a second to react and he’s completely shocked when he finds himself kissing back, pushing into Niall with desire and sliding their tongues together. It’s a kiss of desperation, of fear, as if it’s the last kiss either one of them are going to have.

By the time Zayn pulls away, Niall looks dazed but satisfied, his lips a bit pink in the dim light of the room. He grins and Zayn realizes he’s got braces on, which explains why Zayn’s lip feels like it’s been cut in about twenty places.

“What the fuck?” Zayn asks, but Niall just laughs.

“You seemed to enjoy it, soldier,” he says, and Zayn glares at him. “C’mon, lighten up. You’re cute. And I figured, if we were going to die anyways, it’d be nice to get a good snog in first, y’know?”

Zayn scowls. Payne’s kid is turning out to be more annoying than helpful. “Is there even a shortcut, you prick?”

Niall rolls his eyes. “Now don’t go getting all dramatic on me. I’m nothing if not a man of my word.”

He walks over to a corner of the room and kicks at the wall until Zayn hears a metallic _clang_ and something falls to the ground.

“Ta-da!” Niall says, and Zayn walks over to see that Niall’s opened up the air vent.

“That’s brilliant,” Zayn says, without really realizing it, then straightens up immediately. “But you’re still a arsehole.”

Niall shrugs. “So I’ve been told. Anyways, I figured that the adults couldn’t really fit through these well, so they didn’t even factor them into their plans. Dumbasses.”

Zayn nods. “You first.”

“Aww,” Niall says, pouting exaggeratedly. “But I wanted to stare at your tiny arse the whole time.”

“Listen here, you little--”

“Fine, fine, I’m going,” Niall says, getting on his knees and putting his upper body into the vent. He pauses in that position for a few seconds, though, and Zayn wonders why until he realizes that Niall’s literally _wiggling_ his arse in place.

Zayn steps back and gives a well-aimed kick to it, making Niall yelp and fall forward.

“ _Jesus_! I was just trying to give you a little show, damn...” he mutters, and crawls ahead. Zayn smirks and follows him, turning around to clip the vent cover back into place. He turns back and moves forward, his face coming into immediate contact with Niall’s bottom, which has been waiting right in front of him.

“My, quite forward, aren’t we?” Niall says, and smirks over his shoulder. “Buy me dinner first, at least.”

Zayn’s face blazes with heat. “Shut up. Shut the fuck up. Where are we going?”

Niall shrugs. “It all depends. You want to escape or find people that can help us?”

“I--” Zayn starts, then thinks. The whole reason he joined the Service was to help people, to prove to his father that he’s brave and courageous and resilient. So as much as he wants to run away, he knows he’s got to do what he was sent here to do. “Take us to people who can help.”

“On it,” Niall says, then crawls forward a bit, stopping suddenly as a turn comes into view. Zayn notices this too late and falls forward again, his cheek bumping into Niall’s arse. “You _really_ need to stop doing that,” Niall says, and Zayn grinds his teeth, willing himself to not lose his temper.

“I swear to fucking god--”

“Shh, be quiet,” Niall interrupts. “If we talk too loud or too much, they’ll hear us.”

Zayn physically bites his cheek to keep from attacking Niall but continues to diligently follow him through the vents. It’s dark, so Zayn pulls out the switchblade again and shines the light against above them so it gives them a little bit of illumination. Niall seems to know where he’s going, though, never hesitating at turns or stopping to think about the next move. The longer they crawl, the more subdued Niall seems, and the more suspicious Zayn gets. Niall doesn’t seem like the well-trained son of a leader of an elite group of soldiers. He isn’t even making any smart-ass remarks or trying to flirt with Zayn anymore. Instead, he looks somber and nervous, chewing on his lip, his breathing growing shallower and shallower. After a while, Zayn starts to notice that even the walls around them seem to be coming closer together until the two of them aren’t even crawling as much as they are shuffling through the vents. It’s a tight, uncomfortable fit, even with the two of them being as lithe as they are, and Zayn can feel his guns and gadgets digging into his ribs and hips with every move he makes.

“I have a confession to make,” Niall pants, using his elbows to move himself forward.

“And what’s that?” Zayn asks, trying to sound composed though he’s nervous as fuck on the inside. He’s exhausted; he’s been following this stranger around for what seems like at least a half hour, and he’s been skeptical of the boy’s identity for the better part of it. He doesn’t have the energy or means to crawl all the way back to where he came from--there’s barely any space to turn around right now and he hasn’t been keeping track of the turns Niall’s made--and he doesn’t know how far the two of them are from an exit, meaning that he could literally die inside these vents and no one would ever know. Shit.

“I’m kind of claustrophobic,” Niall confesses, and Zayn’s sure that if the other boy could see the death glare Zayn sends his way, he’d shrink back in guilt.

“Perfect,” Zayn states. “Great. Just the best kind of cherry on top of this fuckfest of a sundae.” He lets out a sigh and rests his head on the cool metal beneath him. “Do you even have any idea where we are?”

Niall scoffs. “Duh. And we’re not too far from an exit, actually, but I’m a bit--I don’t know how much longer I can keep going on in here.”

Zayn frowns. “What, are you going to faint or something?”

There’s a pause. “Maybe. It’s not unheard of.”

“You can’t. You’re in front of me. If you lose consciousness, we’ll both be stuck in here.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“Fuck you. How do I know you’re not just fucking around with me?”

“Believe me, mate, if I was messing with you, you’d know it.”

Zayn sighs again. “How far are we from an exit?”

“Maybe four, five meters?”

Zayn stops and thinks for a moment. “Okay, well. That’s not too bad, really. Is there--I dunno, can I talk you through it, or something?”

“Maybe,” Niall says, and Zayn can hear that his breathing’s picked up speed. Shit. “I don’t--”

“Just--close your eyes. Keep moving, but keep them closed. I’ll tell you if there’s any turns or anything.”

“Alright,” Niall says, hesitantly. He takes a jagged inhale and starts moving forward again, a bit slower than before.

“Keep your eyes shut,” Zayn orders.

“They _are_ ,” Niall assures him, exasperated.

“Okay. Um,” Zayn bites his lip, thinking. “Imagine you’re in a wide open space.”

“Wow,” Niall replies. “So descriptive.”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “Okay, imagine you’re on a warm, sunny beach. Not many people around, the sun shining down on you, only a few clouds in the sky--”

Niall stops moving. “Are _you_ on this beach with me?”

Zayn scowls. “No.”

“Then what’s the point? I’d just get a sunburn and have sand stuck all over me. Useless.”

“Niall, _move_.”

“No. Not until you come up with a better scenario.”

“ _God_ , you’re such a fucking brat,” Zayn spits, but Niall stays still, so he groans and wracks his brain for an alternative. “Okay, okay, um. You’re in a wide, open grassy knoll. It’s quiet and calm around you, not too hot and not too cold, and you can hear little birds in the distance.”

Niall hums in approval. “I do like little birds,” he says, and starts to move forward again.

“Right. And there’s a nice breeze blowing, and you’ve got a blanket and a pillow and a nice book with you, so you’re spread out on the ground, reading Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire for the sixth time, or whatever.”

Niall lets out a small laugh and Zayn can’t help but smile at the little victory. The other boy’s breathing is already a lot more calm and the two of them are moving at a steady pace. There’s a wall coming up in a little bit, with an option to turn either left or right, and as much as Zayn wants to avoid telling Niall till the last second, just to see him hit his head against it--as payback--he knows that it might just make the whole situation a lot worse for the two of them.

“Niall, there’s a branch coming up...left or right?” he asks, trying to keep his voice calm.

“Right,” Niall says, easily, and makes the turn as soon as he reaches it, letting Zayn catch a glimpse of his face in the dim light. Niall looks focused, eyes squeezed shut and brow furrowed as he moves forward, the first time Zayn’s seen him act like a real member of the Service. Maybe he can trust this kid.

“Thank god,” Niall whispers, when they finally reach their exit. He shoves at the grille, knocking it out, and shimmies through the hole in front of him. Zayn’s quick to move out right after, not allowing Niall an opportunity to trap him in the vent--just in case--and he takes deep, grateful gulps of the fresh air that envelops him.

“Well, that was an adventure, wasn’t it?” Niall says, taking a few deep breaths and then standing up, brushing the dust off his shirt.

Zayn just chuckles, allowing himself a couple more seconds of rest before getting onto his feet as well. “So,” he starts. “Where’s the people that can help us?”

Niall gives him a guilty look. “Well...I sort of lied.”

Shit. _Shit_. “What the fuck does that mean?” Zayn says, and he’s got his gun pulled out before he realizes it, pressed against Niall’s forehead like it’s already some sort of automatic reaction. He tries to look serious, but he knows that he wouldn’t be able to shoot Niall if he had to--he’s already warmed up to this boy a bit, which was definitely reckless of him, and he scolds himself for being so trusting right off the bat. He hopes that Niall isn’t able to figure any of this out, though.

Surprisingly, Niall just rolls his eyes and scoffs. “Calm down,” he says, which is both frustrating and unbearably cool. “It’s nothing bad. See, _I’m_ the help here. I’m here to help you. Ta-da!” Niall grins, sticking one foot out and doing jazz hands.

Zayn doesn’t put his gun down. “And you’ve helped. So now what? Where are we?”

“Well,” Niall begins, clearing his throat, looking a bit disappointed at Zayn’s continued threat. “As of right now, we happen to be right next to the room where Horan 1 is.”

Zayn freezes. “ _What_?” he exclaims, finally lowering his gun. There’s no way this is true. And if it is, well. Zayn’s definitely not confident enough to fight one or two enemy guards, let alone the fucking ringleader of the whole operation.

“Relax,” Niall assures him. “It’s no big deal. There’s only a couple men in there besides him, it should be easy to take him out.”

“Niall,” Zayn says, slowly, “I can’t do this. This is my first fucking day on the field, okay? I’ve never even shot anyone for real. You need to get me out of here.”

“What? No way,” Niall says, frowning. “You’ve got to do this. They picked this location because they knew the average Service soldier couldn’t make their way up here. I guess they never figured that someone your size would be trying to fight them.”

Zayn flips Niall off, and Niall laughs. He makes a good point, though. Zayn definitely has the element of surprise on his side right now, and he can lend Niall a gun. With the two of them armed and attacking out of nowhere, it’s possible that they could--

“ _Drop your weapons_!” someone shouts, and Zayn grabs Niall and pushes him against the wall behind them. The only door in the room is the one that’s right next to them and Zayn can hear the sounds of fighting through the cracks in the frame. Someone cocks a gun and Zayn acts fast, dropping flat onto the ground and pulling Niall down next to him--and right in the nick of time, it seems, since the sound of gunfire echoes through the area not a second later, specks of stucco snowing down on the two of them as bullets start breaking through the drywall.

“Shit,” Niall says, wiping powdered plaster off his face. “Someone beat us to it.”

“Stay quiet,” Zayn hisses. He’s not exactly sure who’s winning the fight right now, and he’d rather not be shot by any of Horan’s men at the moment.

“Hands in the air, Horan,” a strong voice says, and then Zayn hears a grunt and a loud _thud_. Everything’s silent for a moment until the voice from before lets out a sigh and a couple people cheer. “Don’t celebrate too soon, lads. Horan 2 is still out there somewhere. Someone get me some cuffs, let’s tie this asshole up.”

Zayn feels relief flood through him. These guys are from the Service and he’s not going to die--not today, at least. He lets out a chuckle and slowly stands up, brushing himself off.

“Time to make ourselves known, huh, Niall?” he mutters, opening the door in front of him. Almost in an instant, he’s got four or five guns pointed at him.

“Uh,” he starts, blinking at the men in front of him. There’s a couple he doesn’t recognize, but he immediately places the two tall Pakistani guys he’d met earlier.

“Malik,” one of them acknowledges, lowering his gun. “It’s okay, lads, he’s one of our own.”

“I don’t recognize him,” someone says, and Zayn’s gaze shifts over to a broad-shouldered kid with a severe buzzcut and the most expressive eyebrows he’s ever seen. He doesn’t look like he could be much older than Zayn, but Zayn realizes with a start that it was this boy’s voice he heard bossing Horan 1 around. Speaking of--Zayn looks around until he sees the man they’ve caught, and he’s clearly knocked unconscious on the carpet, his hands and feet bound tight.

“He’s an intern, he hasn’t ever been on the field before,” the other brother says, and Zayn’s attention is on them again. What was their last name again? Ri-something?

“Hmm,” the boy with the buzzcut says, sizing Zayn up. Zayn straightens up a bit without meaning to and immediately regrets it when he sees the boy smirk. “He’s a bit skinny. How’d you even get in that storage room?”

Zayn scowls, both at the boy’s comment about his physique and at the fact that he hadn’t even realized that him and Niall had been in a storage room. God, he really needs to be more observant. He clears his throat.

“The vents,” he states, and sees the boy’s large eyebrows rise in surprise. “Guess being this skinny comes in handy sometimes.”

“And pray tell, Malik,” the boy says, clicking off the last consonant of Zayn’s name, “what did you intend to do by hiding out in that closet?”

Zayn flushes a bit. “I don’t--um, there was another agent with me, we were planning on storming the room, hopefully taking Horan 1 by surprise.”

The boy snorts. “Well it’s a good thing you didn’t. He had about twenty men hidden in the dark, surrounding him from every angle. You would’ve looked like swiss cheese if you’d gone through with that.”

“Oh,” Zayn says, swallowing down a bit of anxiety. “Good that you lot came around, then.”

“Where’s the other agent you were talking about?”

“Oh, um--he’s probably still in the room, I--” Zayn says, turning and opening the door behind him. He opens his mouth to call out to Niall, but the room’s empty. Niall’s run off and Zayn immediately looks over at the loose grille that’s been tossed onto the floor by the vent. Shit.

“There’s no one else in here,” the boy says, coming up to stand next to Zayn.

“Thanks, I noticed,” Zayn replies dryly, and the boy looks taken aback. What, he can dish it, but he can’t take it?

“Did you catch his name?”

“Yeah,” Zayn says, turning around and walking back into the main room, where the other agents are murmuring amongst themselves. He scratches his neck, sighing. The last thing he wants to report is their boss’s kid running away from a situation like this, but he knows he as to be upfront about it. He rubs his eyes and sighs again. “He was Payne’s kid.”

The entire room goes silent, and Zayn looks up in surprise, cataloguing the agents’ concerned and surprised looks before turning around to the boy behind him.

“Was he, now?” the boy asks, pursing his lips and walking up to Zayn. It’s like Zayn can suddenly sense that something really bad is about to happen. With every step the boy takes, Zayn feels more and more anxious, until the two of them are face to face and Zayn feels like he’s going to shit out his own heart. The boy smiles at him, obviously sensing his nervousness, and holds a hand out, saying the one thing that Zayn absolutely does not want to hear right now:

“Pleasure to meet you. I’m Liam Payne.”

 

“You’ve _got_ to be shitting me,” Zayn says, after Liam’s shown him his ID and the other agents have confirmed Liam’s identity to be true. “What the fuck?”

Liam frowns at him. “Do you always swear this much?”

Zayn glares back at him. “Yes. And if you’re Payne’s son, then who the fuck was that kid?”

Liam shrugs. “Beats me. If he was one of our own, he’d be armed and suited up. But I don’t think any of Horan’s men would try to lead you to the lair to help kill their boss, so I have no idea who he could be. I mean, it’s always possible he was just setting you up to be killed, but,” Liam looks Zayn up and down. “You’re just an intern. You don’t really hold much value in their eyes. If they wanted to kill you, they would’ve killed you already.”

“Wow,” Zayn replies, his voice heavy with sarcasm. “Thank you.”

“What did this guy look like?” Liam asks, obviously ignoring Zayn’s sardonic comment.

Zayn sighs. “He was my height, same body type, but white. Blond, though it looked like he probably bleached his hair, blue eyes. Braces, too,” he adds as an afterthought, suddenly remembering the press of warm metal against his own lips. He feels himself blush a bit and hopes that nobody notices. But when he looks up at Liam again, the other boy is just frowning down at him, oblivious to Zayn’s little flashback.

“Malik,” he says, slowly. “You just described--”

There’s a loud bang from beside them before Liam can finish talking, though, and the door to the room they’re in falls off the hinges as a slew of men enter, guns raised. 

“Fuck,” Liam cusses. “Shoot on sight!”

In the blink of an eye, the room’s filled with the sounds of whizzing bullets and shouts of surprise; mostly from the enemy men, though, Zayn notices, as the agents from the Service are shooting at the intruders quickly and with startling efficiency.

“Pick up your damn weapon, Malik!” Liam shouts, and Zayn sits up with a start, reaching for his gun and aiming it at the mass in front of him. Someone’s moved a large, padded table up as a barricade so he has some cover, and he takes a shuddering breath as he cocks his gun and peeks over the top.

There’s a man in the middle of the enemy line, and though his expression looks furious, his features still seem eerily familiar. He’s clearly the leader of the group and Zayn realizes with a start that he’s Horan 2. He’s surrounded by at least ten or fifteen men, though a few drop dead just as Zayn notices them.

Okay. He can do this. He’s trained for this before, and it’s nothing like what he’s used to, but he can do this. He takes another breath and sits up properly, aiming for the man directly to the right of Horan 2. He doesn’t really focus on where he’s shooting, because he doesn’t actually want to think about the fact that he might be killing someone, so his bullet hits the guy in the knee, which sends him tumbling down with a cry. Zayn gulps and goes to aim for his killshot but someone gets there before him, which is both an annoyance and a relief. But maybe he can use this to his advantage--if he can disarm all the men, or at least make them easier targets, it’ll be a lot simpler for his fellow agents to take them out. So that’s what he sets out to do.

He decides not to go down the row, it’d be too obvious where the shots are coming from and he’d be putting a huge target on himself. So he works randomly, targeting a soldier and shooting their shoulder, knee, ankle, or wrist, some major joint that’ll hurt like hell when hit but won’t cause them to bleed out or die. The person falls, drops their weapon, becomes an easier target for the other agents. It’s a simple process but it’s lethally efficient, and it’s not long before every single one of Horan 2’s men is down, leaving the man in question panting behind of the pile of dead bodies, covered in sweat and blood, his darting eyes filled with rage.

“What the fuck did you do with my father?” he asks, and Liam stands up from behind the barricade, eyes narrowed. Zayn can practically _feel_ the tension between the two of them--both sons with powerful fathers, trying hard to continue their paternal legacies.

“He’s alive,” Liam answers, and Horan 2 lets out a painful yell. It looks like he’s preparing to charge Liam but freezes up suddenly.

“Don’t move,” a new voice says, a far too familiar voice, and Zayn feels his stomach drop as someone walks out from behind Horan 2, pressing a gun to the man’s neck.

“It’s Horan 3,” Zayn hears one of the other agents whisper, but that’s not the name Zayn knows this boy by.

“Hi again,” Niall says, giving Zayn a smile as if he doesn’t have a weapon aimed at his...brother?

“You’re--” Zayn starts, and Niall shrugs.

“Yeah. But I didn’t even have to make up an identity with you, did I? You just assumed I was Payne’s kid, so I let you.”

Zayn chances a look over at Liam, who’s giving him an utterly disappointed glare. Well, he deserves that, he supposes.

“Why did you lead Malik here?” Liam asks Niall, who smiles again.

“Is that your name? Malik? I like it. I never caught it, y’know. Bit of a bummer. I was hoping we could be Facebook friends or summat.”

“Horan,” Liam warns, and Niall rolls his eyes.

“Fine, yes, whatever, Payne, I brought Malik here because I wanted to keep him safe and off of the battlefield. Also I was kind of hoping he’d radio some of you up here so you could take my father down. Happy?”

Liam looks taken aback, but it’s nowhere near to how surprised Horan 2 looks.

“Niall--” he starts, and the look Niall gives his brother is murderous.

“Shut the fuck up, Greg. I don’t know what dad did to make you so fucking bloodthirsty. It’s ridiculous and disgusting, and it’s so beneath us. This needs to stop. You two need to be stopped.”

Horan 2--whose real name is Greg, it seems--lets out a chuckle. “You never could handle a little blood, could you?”

Niall cocks his head. “Oh no?” he says, and then moves his hand down and shoots Greg straight through his shoulder. “I got that move from Zayn. Nice tactic, by the way,” Niall adds, looking up at Zayn, while Greg screams. “Disarming and wounding the shooters so they’re easier to hit? Clever.”

“Thanks,” Zayn mutters, his voice weak. He looks up at Liam again but Liam’s expression is more calculating this time, as if he’s finally figuring out what Zayn did.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Greg cries, falling onto his knees. He starts bleeding profusely but, true to his word, Niall doesn’t even flinch at the sight. “What the fuck, Niall?”

“I’m so sick of this. I’m sick of you two and I’m sick of everyone dying. But if I have to kill you two to make sure no one else dies, then I will.”

“What are you--” Greg starts, but Niall sends a bullet straight through his forehead before he can finish his sentence. Greg teeters a bit before falling backwards, a blank look on his face that Zayn doesn’t think he’ll ever manage to erase from his mind.

It’s quiet again in the room until Niall sighs and drops his gun, running a hand through his hair before looking up at Liam.

“I know you’ve got plans to interrogate my dad, but it’s too late,” he says, and Liam frowns.

“I only knocked him out, I didn’t--” he argues, but Niall holds a hand up and even Liam looks surprised that he stops talking.

“I poisoned him this morning,” Niall explains. “He must have died about ten minutes ago. Sorry.” He sighs again. “It had to be done. But, on the plus side,” he adds, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small USB drive, “I’ve got everything here.”

Niall tosses it over to Liam, who catches it easily and gives Niall a confused look.

“Why are you doing this?” he asks, and Niall smirks.

“I don’t want to be known for what my father did. I don’t even want to be connected to his messes anymore. I’m going to start anew.”

Liam scowls at him. “You know I’m going to have to arrest you.”

Niall beams back at him. “Sure. But to do that, you’re gonna have to catch me first.”

And then everything goes black.

 

\------------

 

When Zayn’s eyes blink open, he has no idea what time it is. It takes him a second to realize where he is and when he does he sits up immediately, almost falling back down at how fast his head spins. He hears a few groans and looks around to see other members of the Service also sitting up and looking around confusedly.

“Where’s Horan 3?”

“What the fuck--”

“Shit, my head--”

“He’s gone! He escaped!”

“Quiet down!”

Zayn blinks over in the direction of the last voice and it’s Liam, of course, who’s already standing up and looking more annoyed by the second. He holds up a small, black metal cylinder.

“He put these in the vents to knock us out. Must’ve deployed them right after I told him I was going to arrest him,” Liam shakes his head, looking down at the ground. “A stupid move on my part.”

“Yo, Malik, you good?” one of the Riach brothers says, appearing by Zayn’s side and helping him up. “You haven’t had any field training yet, you must be feeling kind of woozy, huh?”

“No, I’m--” Zayn starts, but then feels his legs give out. Another body holds him up on his other side and he looks over to see Liam supporting him. The way Liam’s standing, their faces are only millimeters apart, and for the first time, Zayn sees Liam look at him without a trace of snobbery, annoyance, or anger. “I’m fine.”

Liam turns a bit pink--that’s interesting, Zayn’ll have to look into that later--but nods at Riach, and the two of them help carry Zayn out of the room. Zayn feels more and more awake as they walk, and by the time they step outside, all he has to do is take a few deep breaths of fresh air to feel steady on his feet again.

“Thanks,” he says, mostly to Liam, since the two Riach brothers are hugging it out--honestly, Zayn couldn’t ever imagine being in a situation like this with any of his sisters, he’d be constantly worried--and, to his surprise, Liam offers him what seems to be the first genuine smile of the day.

“No problem. And, uh, what Niall said in there, about you setting up the soldiers to make easier targets, that was really smart thinking. If you hadn’t done that, we would’ve probably lost that fight. We were ridiculously outnumbered.”

Zayn shrugs. “Just doing my job, I guess,” he says, and Liam laughs. It’s so unlike the Liam he’s just seen that he doesn’t really know how to react for a few seconds, before giving Liam a smile back. 

“Not bad for your first mission,” Liam says, and it looks like he’s going to say more when someone calls his name from a few feet away. He gives Zayn a small smile and walks over to a group of people made up of folks Zayn doesn’t recognize, except for one man--the rough-looking guy with a wounded arm that Zayn had come face-to-face with when he’d been taken out of the van this morning. They talk for a few minutes, Liam gesturing back to Zayn and the other agents, before the group walks over to them.

Everyone immediately organizes themselves into a straight line, arms behind their backs. Zayn looks around, worried, but doesn’t have time to add himself into the formation before the group approaches him.

“This is the intern I was telling you about,” Liam says, almost a bit proudly. Zayn feels his cheeks heat up.

“Ah, yes, I remember you from the van. What’s your name, son?” the wounded man asks. There’s a taller, bearded man behind him who’s sizing him up in a much less friendly way. Zayn clears his throat.

“Zayn Malik, sir,” he answers, hoping he’s following protocol. The man smiles.

“Geoff Payne. Pleasure to meet you. It’s nice to see young men like you stepping up to the occasion.”

Zayn just nods dumbly, processing the information he’s just been given. Then this is--this is _the_ Payne, isn’t it? Liam’s dad? He looks over to Liam for confirmation, but the other boy is just smirking at him. Zayn covertly flips him off behind his back and has to stifle a laugh at seeing Liam look so taken aback.

Geoff is thankfully completely oblivious to this interaction and turns to gesture to the man behind him. “This is Ben Winston, my second in command. Have you met?”

“Don’t think I’d forget a face like that,” Ben mutters, and Zayn blinks at him, unsure of how to interpret that statement. “But pleasure to meet you. Glad to see you could help steer the boys towards a win.”

“You’re an intern, Liam said? In what field, might I ask?” Geoff inquires.

“Um, Weapons and Technology Research and Enhancement,” Zayn answers.

“Hmm, I see. Ever had any interest in becoming a field agent?”

Zayn gapes at Geoff. “Um, I--yes, of course. That’s the goal, isn’t it?”

“You’d be surprised. But that’s not relevant. What _does_ matter is that you’ve helped to dismantle one of the most ruthless crime organizations in the world. And that is enough to warrant a promotion. So welcome to the field, Agent Malik.”

Zayn’s not sure who looks more surprised: Ben, Liam, or himself. He can barely breathe, let alone speak, so it takes him a few seconds of blinking at Geoff like an idiot before he can speak. “Wow, I--thank you! It’s an honor, truly.”

Geoff gives him a laugh, patting him on the shoulder and moving down the line to talk to the rest of the agents, who all greet him with a smile.

“Congrats,” Liam says, walking up to Zayn and grinning wide. “That doesn’t happen too often.”

“Shut up,” Zayn quips, still trying to slow his heart down.

“Take a few days off. You deserve that much, at least.”

“Thanks,” Zayn pauses, cocking his head. “Boss?”

Liam blushes and shrugs. “I guess.”

It’s so strange to see him act like this when only an hour ago he was brutally kicking ass, looking at Zayn like he was ready to tear him apart. Now he seems more withdrawn, more shy, and it’s actually kind of adorable. But there’s still something nagging at Zayn, keeping him from being totally relaxed about the completion of the mission.

“So,” he starts, running a hand through his hair, “have you talked to your dad about Niall?”

There’s a flash of some dark expression that crosses Liam’s face for a moment, but he schools his features into something neutral almost immediately. “Niall is...going to be a handful, I can already tell you that. But I’m not a hundred percent sure what we’re going to do about it. He’s actually never been involved with the crimes the other Horans have committed and the only actual illegal thing he did today was execute his brother, which, if I’m being honest, we were probably going to do anyway, after some interrogation. Greg was too dangerous to be kept alive, as was his father, and Niall knew that. As of right now, Niall hasn’t done anything to warrant a criminal charge besides escaping when we wanted to question him, so we can’t really try to hunt him down until he does something illegal, unfortunately.”

Zayn looks at Liam curiously. “And you think he’s going to?”

Liam raises an eyebrow. “You think he isn’t?”

Zayn shrugs and breaks his gaze with Liam, afraid that the other boy might get too much information from his face right now. “He didn’t seem like the bad guy type, y’know? Just a nuisance, if anything.”

“You’d be surprised what people can change into,” Liam says ominously, and Zayn frowns. “Just don’t let your guard down if he somehow gets in contact with you. I don’t know what it is, but something tells me he really took to you today, and Niall doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to let those things go.”

Zayn’s mind flashes back to the quick kiss he’d had with Niall once more, and luckily Liam turns away to talk to someone else before Zayn feels his own face turn hot. He looks down at the ground, kicking a couple pebbles around, nervous because of what Liam had just said. Would Niall really try to get in touch with him? What’s the proper protocol then? What if Niall just wants to go on a date or something? Can Zayn do that? 

Before he has time to really lose himself in those questions, though, he feels a body slam into him from behind.

“Malik!” a voice cries into his ear, and even though it’s painfully loud, Zayn’s able to categorize it as one of the Riach brothers.

“Don’t think I properly introduced myself, mate,” the one who’s not hanging off of him says, holding a hand out. “I’m Danny. You’ve met Ant.”

“Yeah,” Zayn confirms, as Ant excitedly noogies him. “Vas happenin’?”

Danny laughs, and it’s genuine enough that Zayn grins along. “We were gonna have a little shindig at ours to celebrate a job well done. You down?”

“Really?” Zayn asks, eyes wide, before realizing that it probably makes him look a little desperate. “I mean, yeah. For sure, bro.”

Ant pats him on the back as Danny gives him a little salute, then the two of them walk off to another agent, probably to invite him to their party too. Zayn can’t believe it. A promotion, new mates, _and_ he’s gonna be able to get fucked up tonight to celebrate it all? He can’t help but smile to himself, putting his hands behind his head and looking up at the now dim evening sky. He’s sure he looks weird right now but it’s like a million different pieces of his life just settled into place, so he couldn't care less about what everyone might be thinking about him at the moment.

He’s not really paying attention to anything else, so when someone calls out his name, it jolts him back to reality.

“Yo, Malik! We’re drivin’ out!” someone calls, and Zayn smiles at the fact that people seem to know his name now. He jogs over to where there’s a long line of black vans and climbs into the last one, taking a seat next to a couple people he doesn’t really know, which he’s kind of happy about. He’s always been the type of person to prefer solitude, and knowing the amount of social interaction he’s going to have coming up tonight, he’s going to revel in however much of it he has in the moment.

Speaking of the party--he doesn’t think he has either of the Riachs’ numbers. He pulls out his phone, ready to ask if anyone in the car has their contact info, when he sees that he’s got two unread texts from an unknown number.

 _catch u later_ , the first message says, followed by _love, niall :-)_

Zayn’s stomach drops and he can’t even catalogue how he’s feeling. He’s caught somewhere in between giggling like a little kid with a crush and losing his goddamn mind. What the hell is Niall trying to do to him? Moreover, why the fuck can’t Zayn get him out of his head?

His phone buzzes in his hand and he looks down to see that he’s just received another text from the unknown number.

_look out the window_

Zayn almost snaps his neck with the speed at which he lifts his head up, looking out of the window right next to him. He doesn’t see anything at first, but after a minute he can make out a splotch of blond in between the trees. Niall’s face comes into view, a grin across his features. Zayn feels the van rumble as the driver starts it up, and the last thing he sees before they drive away is Niall blowing him a kiss.

 

\------------


	2. The Assignment

\------------

\------------

It’s cold outside when Zayn steps out of his apartment building, wrapped up in a scarf and jacket that collectively cost more than two months of his rent here. But he remembers the advice his mother had given him long ago, how it was worth it to shell out the cash for coats and shoes, since you got a lot of wear out of the well-made ones and it also made you look distinguished enough to have even strangers respect you.

Zayn can’t deny that this is true; he doesn’t really live in a very posh flat, which drives some of his friends crazy, considering the amount he makes at the Service, but he knows all the people he meets think that he’s staying in one of the newly-renovated, million-dollar-a-unit high-rises that’ve been popping up all over the city. It’s a compliment, he supposes, and he indulges them sometimes, shelling out for bottle service or purchasing ultimate VIP packages for concerts and whatnot. He never really has anyone over, though, which is good, because he considers his small, cozy place to be a haven for himself and no one else.

Being in this line of work is tiring, and appearance is everything, so Zayn uses that as excuse to ensure that his place is as relaxing and stress-free as possible. He sleeps in one bedroom and paints in the other, and his living room has more books than pieces of furniture. It’s his place to unwind and get some rest so he doesn’t look like shit when he’s on a mission; he needs to look his best when he’s trying to seduce some European princess so he can get access to her asshole father’s money laundering business or whatever.

Zayn’s idea of not looking great, though, seems to be contradictory to everyone else’s understanding of the phrase. Even when he looks and feels his worst, he has people flirting with him and asking for his number and checking him out. It’s no different this morning, when Zayn counts no less than fourteen people giving him a once-over. He thinks he even catches a girl take a picture of him at one point, and the only reason he doesn’t confront her about it is because he’s already late for work, and he knows how much Ben hates that. He feels colder than usual, though, and he wonders why before realizing that he doesn’t have that much hair on his head anymore. Well, that may be an understatement, since he got it buzzed off this weekend. He’d felt like it was the time for change, as if something was stirring in the air, ready to knock him down on his ass. He’d also left his stubble alone so he was sporting a good amount of facial hair, and honestly, if he didn’t know himself, he wouldn’t have recognized himself. He reminds himself to buy a beanie, or to at least nick one from Harry or Louis when he reaches the office; the last thing he needs right now is to catch a cold.

“Morning, Eve,” Zayn mumbles, as he walks into the small but warm convenience store a short while later. The older woman behind the register just grunts in reply, barely glancing up from her newspaper to acknowledge Zayn’s arrival. Zayn walks over to the hot food station, scanning the options before picking up a breakfast burrito. The label promises that it’s spicy, but he’s got a bottle of Sriracha in his office just in case. Everyone gives him so much shit for eating junk food all the time but Zayn already puts his life at risk daily because of his job, he figures he might as well be just as reckless with his diet.

“Thanks, Eve,” Zayn says, mouth full of bland burrito, and Eve waves him off as Zayn walks to the back of the store. Ugh. The burrito needs some hot sauce. He opens up the door marked ‘Employees Only’ and pushes aside the buckets and cleaning supplies that’re in front of the black-and-white tiled back wall, pressing his palm against the third white tile from the ceiling, second from the right. He waits for the gentle vibration of the fingerprint scanner, taking another bite of his burrito. _Definitely_ needs some hot sauce. There’s a small beep and Zayn pulls his hand away, watching the middle tiles slide aside to reveal a small hallway. It’s been years of working at the Service but Zayn still can’t get over how cool the secret entrance is. He knows he’s one of the only people that uses it, but he can’t help but be amazed at the mechanics of it all; he feels like Harry fucking Potter every time it opens.

But even though he’s walked this dimly-lit hallway a thousand times, he still feels on guard whenever he makes his way through it. He doesn’t really trust that the walls are solid and he’s sure there’s security cameras down here--Ben would never miss the chance to put another one up--yet he still feels an ominous presence. It’s his least favorite part of taking this entrance, and if he didn’t love the tile wall so much, this would be enough to get him to only use the main entrance to the building. He speeds up a bit near the end, which is stupid, because he’s a professional spy, lethally trained with thousands of hours of combat training, but whatever. No one has to know. He flips off the security camera above him, just in case someone _is_ watching, and punches in the code to the door in front of him, breathing a sigh of relief as always when the lock clicks and he pulls it open.

He’s instantly hit with a burst of warm air and the scent of apple pie, and he looks over to his left, where the front desk is, for the source of the smell.

“Apple pie?” he asks, voicing his thoughts, and the tall, gangly man at the desk beams at him.

“Hi, Zayn,” he says, jumping out of his chair and walking out from behind his desk to give Zayn a bear hug. “It’s apple cinnamon this week.”

“So I was right,” Zayn replies, returning the hug. “And hello, Harry.”

“Wait a second,” Harry says, abruptly leaning back. “What? Where’s the hair? What the hell, Zayn?” he pouts. “We were going to be long-hair buddies!”

Zayn laughs. “I know, I know. I’m sorry, I just felt like I had to switch it up. You know me--fear of commitment, and all that.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Whatever. At least _I_ still look good,” he mutters, jumping up and sitting on the desk before swinging his legs over the other side. He’s very much not supposed to do that, as the desk is supposed to be manned at all times, but Harry manages to get his way somehow, convincing Ben to let him light different scented candles each week and keep his hair long and crank the heat up in the lobby since he gets cold easily and can’t type with gloves on. Harry’s on a whole different level of charm, and Zayn’s often wondered why he isn’t an agent himself, but each time he thinks about that, he’s been shown a reason why, and today’s no different: as Harry attempts to sit down in his chair, he fails completely, falling to the floor with a yelp as his chair rolls away.

“You look great, Harry,” Zayn quips, getting a middle finger over the top of the desk as a reply. Zayn laughs as he walks over to the lift, calling for one and stepping into it as the doors open. He turns back to see Harry’s smiling face pop over the top of the desk.

“Love you, Zayn!” Harry cries, and Zayn winks at him before pressing the button for his floor.

 

His office is cool and smells like laundry detergent--just the way he likes it. He knows that no one’s really supposed to enter it, partly because he’s got seniority and partly because it’s just rude to, but he’s always afraid that one day he’ll step in and everything will be off so he won’t be able to function properly. He shrugs his scarf and coat off, hanging them up, then sits down at his desk. There’s a knock on the door just as he’s squirting a liberal amount of hot sauce onto his breakfast.

“Senior agent meeting in five,” someone says, and Zayn rolls his eyes, chomping down on his food. They’ve had the same meeting every Monday morning since this organization was founded, he doesn’t get why he needs reminders. He couldn’t forget it was happening if he tried. He figures he should make it there early, just in case, and possibly as a way to make up for how late he was coming into work, so he cleans up the remnants of his burrito, licking some sauce off his fingers. He checks his reflection in the mirror by his door to make sure there’s nothing stuck in his teeth and then walks over to the conference room.

The way this building is set up is pretty imposing, and Zayn’s not a _huge_ fan of it, but he can deal. It’s essentially just one long hallway where Zayn is, with the other senior offices, and further down there’s a large conference room and common area. The lower floors are where all the interns and junior agents work, and if Zayn’s being honest, he really prefers his years down there than his time up here. It’s like there’s so much pressure that comes just from having an office here and he doesn’t like that kind of attention on him; he’s never felt comfortable having all eyes on him. Which, of course, is probably why fate cursed him with a face like his, since people never seem to stop staring at him, as proven by the events of this morning.

The one nice thing about the Monday morning meetings is that every senior agent is required to attend, and by ‘required’ Ben means ‘if you don’t show up, I’m just going to assume that you’re dead.’ Zayn wishes he was making that quote up, but it’s verbatim from the day that Ben became the head of the Service. It’s kind of annoying, though, since he’s almost never at these meetings himself. But because of the meetings, Zayn gets to see everyone else that he often loses track of or misses running into, since people are either sitting in their offices behind closed doors or out on missions, unable to be contacted. He takes a look around the conference room when he walks in. Danny and Ant are already here, arguing about something dumb to do with sports, probably. Grimmy is showing Caroline something on his phone that they both seem to be very engrossed in, and Liam’s sitting at the head of the too-large table, chin resting on the knuckles of his crossed hands. If Zayn didn’t know any better, he’d just think that Liam seems lost in thought. Fortunately for him, he can read Liam like a book by now, and he catches the way Liam’s chewing at his bottom lip, his brow furrowed deeply.

“I’m here!” Louis cries, and runs into the conference room, dropping himself down into a chair, panting. “I’m here. It’s okay. Not dead.”

Zayn raises an eyebrow and takes the seat next to him. “Flirting with the receptionist again?” he teases, and Louis just grins at him, winking. Zayn can’t help but smile at that. Louis and Harry are an enigma, really, but they just seem to fit together so well. Zayn doesn’t think he knows of a cuter couple out there. It was almost love at first sight the day they met, and he knows for a fact that they were already snogging on Harry’s couch by that night. Their relationship isn’t really a secret but nobody really talks about it in a professional manner because it’s technically against the Service’s bylaws for employees to be involved with each other in that sense. That doesn’t stop Louis and Harry from being together, though, and it certainly doesn’t stop both Ant and Danny from trying to get into Caroline’s pants. Zayn’s sure that Ant’s hooked up with at least one of the junior agents here, though, so the most he can hope for at this point is that everyone uses protection.

“Thanks for joining us, Louis,” Liam says, and Louis gives Liam a thumbs-up. “Everyone have a good weekend?”

There’s a chorus of murmured yeses from the group. “Good. We’ve got some new assignments and I wanted to know your level of interest.”

Zayn leans back in his chair. This is one of his least favorite things to do--pick assignments. Contrary to why some of the other agents love this job, Zayn is in it just because he’s good at it. There’s no real huge thrill he gets from doing what he does, he doesn’t chase after adrenaline and danger like Louis and Liam. He’ll do whatever job he’s told, and he’s good at getting it done. That’s what matters to him. He never really pipes up at the selections, usually waits till the last assignment is up for grabs, and then accepts it. The other guys used to kind of give him sympathetic looks until they realized that Zayn just didn’t give a shit about it.

“As always, I’d suggest that you have at _least_ two junior agents informed and ready to aid you, if needed,” Liam says, passing out manilla folders to each person at the table. “Don’t get reckless,” he adds, throwing a disappointed look at Louis, who just rolls his eyes.

Zayn picks up his folder and opens it, scanning the list inside. It’s quiet for a moment as everyone looks over the options. There’s some cut-and-dry things, like retrieving stolen property and whatnot, and one that looks tricky but fun--someone’s smuggling marijuana and cocaine in bars of chocolate and several higher-ups in South America have reached out to try and get the Service’s help to stop it. The last option on the list, though, is the one that really catches Zayn’s eye:

**Case 6: CAPTURE FUGITIVE**

  * SEX: M, HEIGHT: 173cm, HAIR: blond, EYES: blue



It’s as if Zayn knows exactly which name he’s going to see before his eyes even finish scrolling through the first couple of lines, because he feels an unfamiliar surge of excitement swoop through his stomach, one that he’s sorely missed.

  * NAME: HORAN, NIALL



Zayn doesn’t even have to read any of the rest of the case description before dropping the folder onto the desk in front of him and looking up at Liam.

“I want six,” he says, with no hesitation, and everyone at the table turns to look at him. Zayn glances at their faces for a second, cataloguing the surprise—and amusement, in Louis’ case—but he looks at Liam for approval. Liam’s jaw is clenched and Zayn realizes that this may be what he was so worried about earlier.

“Well _that’s_ new,” Grimmy mumbles, and Louis throws his pen at the older man’s face. Zayn makes a mental note to send Louis a muffin basket for that.

“Zayn,” Liam starts, which makes Grimmy stop his sputtering, “I was hoping to work on this one. Now, if you’d like to be a reference on the case, you’re welcome to do that, but—”

“No,” Zayn replies, surprised at how he’s reacting. Sure, they’re all on a first-name basis and whatnot, but Liam’s the lead senior agent, and since he reports directly up to Ben, no one really argues with him over something like this out of fear of losing their jobs. But there’s something inside Zayn that’s urging him to fight for case, and he’s not one to go against his instincts like that.

It takes him a minute to realize that the table’s silent, no other agent really speaking, just looking between Zayn and Liam. Liam looks concerned but Zayn’s not backing down.

“Let’s talk after this,” Liam says, and almost immediately it’s as if the tension breaks and Louis stands up, slamming his hand onto the table.

“I _demand_ the marijuana chocolate case,” he announces, and at least half the table rolls their eyes.

“You’re supposed to recover all the pot, Louis, not smoke it,” Grimmy comments, and Louis throws Zayn’s pen at him this time.

“No one here can pass for a stoner as well as I can,” Louis replies, and Caroline laughs.

“Yeah, sure, “ _pass_ ”,” she says, using air quotes. Louis rolls his eyes.

“Hey, how come she doesn’t get any pens thrown at her?” Grimmy says, pouting.

“Her face is too pretty to warrant harm,” Louis answers easily, making Grimmy scowl and Caroline blow him a kiss. Louis turns to Liam. “Liam?”

“Sure,” Liam answers, but it’s obvious his mind is somewhere else, since he’s looking at Zayn pointedly. Louis whoops in victory regardless, and Grimmy scoffs.

“Well, if that’s the way we’re doing things, I want the stolen art case,” he says, and Caroline scoffs.

“Please. That one has my name written all over it.”

“It’ll take two agents anyways--one in France and one in Italy,” Liam says, rubbing at his temples. “France would be better-suited for Caroline, there’s a stubborn duke who needs charming.”

Grimmy frowns and opens his mouth to protest but Liam holds up a hand. “A stubbornly _straight_ duke, Nicholas. Not that I’m not all for you giving it a try, but it’ll just make everything go a lot smoother.”

“Whatever,” Grimmy says, stretching out in his chair. “Italy has better nightclubs anyways.”

“ _God_ ,” Liam groans, “what did I ever do to deserve having to be in charge of you lot?”

“Oh hush up, Liam,” Louis says, rolling his eyes. “As if you’d ever have let any of us beat you out for this role.”

Liam throws a glare at Louis and then looks over at Ant and Danny. “How about you two? Any selections?”

“Everything looks pretty standard, mate. Just give us something that’ll let us test out that new gun we just got,” Ant says, wiggling his eyebrows. Danny laughs and nods in agreement and Liam tsks at them, standing up and grabbing the case file.

“Zayn?” he says, moving to walk out of the office, and Zayn stands up to follow him. Louis starts _ooooh_ -ing, as if Zayn’s being taken to the principal’s office or something, so he makes sure to flick Louis good and hard in the ear on his way out. No more muffin basket for him.

 

“We need to talk to Ben,” Liam says, as soon as he walks out of the conference room. Zayn scoffs.

“Why can’t you just give me the case, Liam? I never ask for anything, can’t I just be given this one?”

“As much as I’d love to hand it over to you, I’m technically not allowed to. Ben asked _me_ to take it.”

Zayn frowns. “So then why’d you even put it on the assignment sheet?”

Liam gives him one of his sad puppy-dog looks. “I felt guilty not being able to directly tell you, so this was my way of quote-unquote accidentally feeding you the information. I can pass it off as a simple editing mistake but I felt it was only fair to tell you about it. I know how you feel about him.”

Zayn’s cheeks burn a bit as Liam says that. He doesn’t even have to clarify who the ‘him’ is, they both know that Zayn’s been more than a little bit obsessed with Niall over the last few years. He’s been tracking all of Niall’s whereabouts, all his actions, everything, just hoping to get even a small clue or pattern that’ll help him discern his next move. Niall is too good to be pinned down that easily, though, and Zayn’s been unable to get a hold of him, the Irishman slipping through his fingers like a wisp of smoke.

Zayn does feel some gratitude towards Liam, though, for thinking of him, because he knows that one thing Liam hates more than most is leaving a job unfinished, and Niall is the biggest loose end of all.

“Thanks,” he says, finally, and catches the small smirk that shows up on Liam’s face before it disappears. Liam just shrugs in reply, and then they’re at Ben’s door. He knocks first--though it’s not really necessary, with the cameras Ben has installed around his door--and then puts his hand on the knob and sighs, looking almost as if he’s annoyed. Zayn watches at him concernedly.

“All good?” he asks, and Liam nods, giving him a tight-lipped smile.

“Yeah,” Liam says, “I just don’t think I’ll ever get used to opening this door and not seeing my dad inside.”

The comment kind of floors Zayn, but Liam opens the door immediately afterwards, so Zayn has no choice but to walk into Ben’s office with a stupid look on his face.

“Payne,” Ben says, from where he’s sitting at his desk, writing something down. It’s with a fountain pen, of course, because Ben is just that pretentious sometimes, and Ben blows on the paper slowly to dry it before looking up at the two of them. “Oh. And Malik?”

“I think we should split up the Horan case,” Liam says, and Zayn looks over at him, confused. “Agent Malik has much more intel gathered on Horan than anyone else in the agency and is more equipped and ready to enter the field with the knowledge on how to capture the fugitive.”

Ben slowly puts the pen away. “I see. And what, pray tell, will you be doing on this case, Agent Payne?”

“I think I’ll be a good resource elsewhere,” Liam explains. “I think it would be a good use of my time to look over Horan’s old crime scenes and safe houses to get an insight into what he’s been trying to accomplish with the slew of petty crimes he’s been up to lately. That way, all Agent Malik has to do is to focus on capturing Agent Horan. The general investigative work will be left to me.”

Ben hums in acknowledgement, then turns his attention to Zayn. “Malik,” he starts, his voice a bit too smooth. Zayn fights the familiar urge to recoil from the older man. “Did you ask Agent Payne for this reassignment?”

“No, I--” Zayn starts, then clears his throat. “I simply saw the case on the assignment list and requested to be on it. And sir, if I may add--Agent Payne is not exaggerating about my research into Niall. I’ve been looking up information on him since the day he and I first met.”

“Also the day we first met, wasn’t it?” Ben mentions, and Zayn nods, unsure of what that has to do with anything. “Hmm, okay. Maybe this could work. But I’d need a weekly status report from you both regarding what you’re doing. And the two of you should sync up at least twice a week to make sure you’re keeping each other on track.”

“Yes, of course, Ben,” Liam agrees, and Zayn nods again. He can feel his stomach flutter with excitement.

“All right. Good of you to stop by, Malik,” Ben says, giving Zayn a slow once-over.

“I--yes, of course, Agent Winston,” Zayn answers, unsure of what to say.

“Call me Ben,” the older man says, giving Zayn a smile, and Zayn nods politely, making his way over to the door in an effort to get out of the room as soon as possible.

“Oh my god,” he breathes, once he’s outside, turning to Liam. “Liam, I owe you such a big one, thank you--” Zayn says, pulling Liam into a hug. He’s never one to show affection like this, and especially not in the office, but he hasn’t been this excited about a mission in, like, ever.

“Don’t mention it,” Liam says, laughing a bit, his arms slowly coming up to pat at Zayn’s back. It’s a bit awkward but Liam’s blushing when Zayn pulls back, as he always does when the two of them are in close physical proximity. “Just don’t let us down.”

Zayn beams at Liam. “I’ll try my hardest not to.”

  
\------------


	3. The Plan

\------------

The bar Zayn steps into is posh. A bit too posh, for his taste, but still impressive. There’s a large, expensive-looking chandelier hanging above the entrance and the whole place is tastefully decorated. There’s also not much of a crowd here, since it is a Tuesday night, but everyone who’s here is dressed impeccably, so Zayn’s glad he made the stop at his tailor’s back in London to pick up the slim-fit grey suit he’s wearing at the moment. 

He walks up to the counter, sliding into one of the high-top chairs in front of it. There’s no drink menus available but Zayn pretty much orders the same thing every time he goes to a place this fancy, so all he has to do now is wait for the bartender. He looks around as he drums his fingers on the marble in front of him, trying to see if his contact is somewhere else in the bar. He’s meeting up with a man named Eoghan who grew up with Niall and still keeps in touch with him. Zayn had looked into his background and it didn’t seem like Eoghan had ever helped out Niall’s father or brother, which means that Niall should trust him enough to maybe have dropped a hint or two about where he might be lurking about.

“Nice night, innit?” a voice says, behind him, and Zayn moves to to look at the bartender, who’s finally decided to show up, it seems. 

“Dublin’s a nice city,” Zayn replies, “haven’t been here before.”

“I know,” the bartender says, right as Zayn faces him, and Zayn almost falls out of his seat when he sees a shockingly familiar blond Irishman pouring a drink out into a martini glass. “It’s not my favorite city, y’know, ‘cause Mullingar is still near and dear to my heart, but you know that, don’t you? It’s why our good friend Liam is tearing up every stone in the fuckin’ town looking for me.”

“Niall,” Zayn breathes, barely able to process what the other man’s saying. It’s frustrating--he’d had this whole thing planned out for when he’d find Niall, how he’d sit him down and interrogate him and kiss him. 

Well, the last action was a bit more of a daydream than anything, but now, as he watches the man he’s been trying to find for years slide a few olives into his drink, it’s all Zayn can think about.

“Martini--with gin, of course, and extra olive juice, for whatever reason,” Niall says, leaning forward onto the bar, putting his head in his hands. “Kind of gross.”

Zayn takes the glass, has a sip of the drink, and smirks. “It’s perfect.”

Niall hums in acknowledgement, eyes scanning over Zayn’s face. “Not how you expected us to reunite, is it?”

“It’s a pity. I really was looking forward to meeting Eoghan.”

Niall’s eyes narrow. “Why?”

“I wanted to get some dirt on you. Y’know, like embarrassing stories from school. The crazy things you must’ve done when you were drunk.  _ Real _ blackmail material.” Niall smiles and Zayn takes another sip of his drink. “Plus, he looked kind of cute.”

The smile falls off Niall’s face in an instant. “Did he, now?”

“Probably the fittest Irishman I’ve ever seen, if I’m being honest.”

“You’re a prick, you know that?” Niall says, jumping onto the counter so he’s sitting cross-legged in front of Zayn. “I go through all this trouble of hacking Eoghan’s emails and paying off the bartender to try to impress you with this shitty fucking drink and this is how you repay me? By lying to my face?”

Zayn’s smile widens, though he tries to hide it with his glass, downing the rest of his drink in one go. He pulls out the skewer of olives and chews one slowly, sizing Niall up. “You got your braces off.”

Niall grunts in acknowledgment and then unfolds his legs so he’s framing Zayn in. He reaches out and slowly rubs a thumb over Zayn’s hairline. “You cut your hair. And you still look good.” 

Zayn can’t help but close his eyes and lean into Niall’s touch. Niall’s fingers trail down to his scruff, and then underneath his chin, tilting his jaw up. Zayn opens his eyes to Niall’s icy blue ones.

“I would kiss you, but you probably taste like olive juice,” Niall states, though his gaze keeps flitting down to Zayn’s lips.

“Who says I want you to kiss me?” Zayn counters, though he leans in even closer to Niall.

“That wall in your office that’s plastered with information about me says more than enough, to be honest,” Niall answers, and Zayn slides off of the chair he was sitting on, standing up so he’s eye-level with Niall.

“I never told you you could go in my office,” he says, placing his hands on Niall’s thighs and inching them upwards. He can hear Niall’s breath hitch and his grip around the other man’s thighs tightens instinctively.

“When have I ever asked for your permission?” Niall retorts, and Zayn’s mind immediately flashes back to the first time he’d kissed Niall--the  _ only _ time he’d kissed Niall--and he remembers the rush of it all, the intensity of the kiss, the fear and emotion he’d poured into it. 

“You do have a habit of neglecting to do that,” Zayn mutters, and Niall laughs, bringing his hands up to either side of Zayn’s neck. It’s an extremely stupid position to put himself in, Zayn knows that--from this stance, Niall could easily cut off Zayn’s airflow or even break his neck. But Niall seems to know it too, if the challenging glint in his eye is anything to go by.

“I’m supposed to be interrogating you,” Zayn reminds him, and he feels Niall’s thumbs press gently against the pulse points in his throat, making him inhale sharply. 

“So do it,” Niall challenges, sliding his hands down Zayn’s neck and shoulders, working his way over to Zayn’s chest. He unbuttons a button on the shirt Zayn’s wearing and smirks as he sees the first flash of ink across Zayn’s sternum. 

“Couldn’t we go somewhere more...private?” Zayn enquires, and Niall’s smirk grows into a full-fledged smile.

“We’re alone here,” he says, and Zayn immediately looks around to see that Niall’s telling the truth. All those over-glammed people that were here just a little while back are gone. Zayn turns back to Niall and raises an eyebrow questioningly. “They work for me. Had to be safe, y’know. Didn’t know if you were going to show up with backup.”

“And what if I had?” Zayn asks, and Niall’s hands stop unbuttoning Zayn’s shirt, moving to grip the loose collar instead.

“It’d be a pity,” he says, pulling Zayn even closer, so close that their noses are practically touching, “because I wouldn’t have been able to do this.”

And Niall moves forward, pressing his lips to Zayn’s and moving to cradle Zayn’s head in his hands. Zayn can’t help but shudder as he feels the tentative licks of Niall’s tongue in his mouth and the whole experience is so new but still comfortingly familiar. He lets his guard down for a minute, regardless of how much he knows he shouldn’t, and leans into it, kissing Niall back with as much enthusiasm as he can muster. He doesn’t even realize that he’s letting out little moans of pleasure until he feels Niall’s nails scratch through his short hair in encouragement.

It’s kind of ridiculous that it’s been years since the two of them have seen each other, years during which they both could have easily moved on from this short-lived, barely-there fling, but here they are, snogging each other’s faces off like it’s been just a few hours since they last saw each other.

The intensity of it all is what makes Zayn finally break away, panting as he opens his eyes and sees Niall’s wide pupils and bruised lips. They’ve both been waiting for this for too long--there’s too much built into this, too much at stake for them to not try and get this initial buzz out of their systems in the most appropriate setting possible. If they don’t, they’re going to regret it; or Zayn will, at the very least.

“We need a bed,” Zayn declares, and Niall starts laughing, leaning in to press a quick kiss to Zayn’s mouth.

“So eager, so proper. Why can’t we just dry-hump each other here for now?” he teases, nuzzling into Zayn’s neck.

“Because it’s not very comfortable to fuck someone on a cold, hard countertop,” Zayn explains, and he feels Niall bite his neck and groan. Zayn winces but smirks when Niall pulls away to scowl at him.

“Fine,” Niall concedes, but then scootches back and spins around, jumping down onto the other side of the bar. “I’ll meet you in your hotel room in fifteen minutes.”

Zayn blinks at him, confused. “How do you even know where I’m staying?”

Niall winks in reply, holding up a keycard. Zayn automatically pats himself down and realizes that it’s his--Niall must have swiped it at some point.

“I didn’t know you were a pickpocket too,” Zayn comments, buttoning his shirt back up.

“I have many skills,” Niall replies, and then opens a large black door behind himself that’s marked ‘Employees Only’. “Race you there.”

 

Zayn doesn’t want to admit that he practically sprints back to his hotel room, foregoing any kind of taxi or anything that may slow him down, but he realizes how much of an idiot he must look like when he bursts through the doors of the hotel he’s staying at and gets quite a few disapproving glares from the guests and employees in the lobby.

“Sorry,” he says, moving fast to the lift and jumping in as soon as it opens, hitting the button to close the doors again and again until they slide shut. He’s not sure he could handle trying to stay composed for this ride with someone else in here with him. 

He practically breaks the button for his floor and keeps pacing around the inside of the lift as it slowly ascends. He looks up and catches his reflection in the mirrored wall--his cheeks are flushed, his shirt wrinkled, his lips bitten and bruised. Jesus. He already looks like he just shagged someone, no wonder everyone in the lobby was giving him dirty looks. 

“Get it together,” he mutters to himself, leaning against the back wall and trying to calm his breathing down. He tries to convince himself that this is just a shag, just to get years of sexual frustration out of his system, but each time he closes his eyes all he can see is an image of Niall coupled with something that seems a lot more like adoration than just pure arousal.

When the lift dings, he shoves himself through the space in the doors and gets to his room. He has no doubt Niall’s beat him to it--and he took the only key Zayn had on himself--so he knocks once, then twice, then incessantly until the door opens.

“Twelve minutes, twenty-three seconds,” Niall says, leaning against the door jamb. Zayn can’t really say much, though, because Niall’s literally in nothing but a pair of tight white briefs.

“It would’ve been twelve minutes flat if you hadn’t taken so damn long to answer the door,” Zayn says, and walks in without giving Niall a warning, grabbing the other man and pushing him against a wall. 

“You got me,” Niall says, grinning. “Aren’t you curious as to how I made it here first?”

“You can tell me later,” Zayn breathes out, pulling his suit off. Niall pouts.

“I kind of wanted you to fuck me in that,” he admits, and Zayn smirks.

“Next time.”

That’s enough encouragement for Niall to reach down and make quick work of Zayn’s belt and buttons, pushing his suit pants down to the ground. Zayn steps out of them, not even caring about the amount of wrinkles they’re going to have, while unbuttoning his shirt. Niall stops him before he can take it off, however.

“At least keep that on,” he murmurs, then his eyes scan down Zayn’s chest, taking in all the ink. “It’s so nice to finally see these in person.”

“You’re such a creep,” Zayn says, laughing. “How long have you been stalking me, hmm?” he asks, pushing Niall back against the wall. He moves in close so that their bare chests are pressed together. Niall moves his hands up and over Zayn’s shoulders as Zayn slides his up and down Niall’s sides.

“I wanna say, hmm, a few months before we met?” Niall admits, and Zayn stills, surprised.

“Wait, seriously?” he asks, and Niall blushes, looking a little guilty.

“I was already kind of fed up with my dad and brother and then they sent me to scope out your headquarters and I saw you walk in and I just...couldn’t stop watching you. You took my fucking breath away, I swear to god.”

“ _ God _ , Niall,” Zayn breathes, and leans forward, kissing the other man again. He fits his hands behind Niall’s back and slides them down into his briefs, squeezing at Niall’s arse and grinding forward into him at the same time.

The moan that leaves Niall’s mouth is so new and delicious and Zayn isn’t satisfied with just a taste of it. He moves his hands to Niall’s thighs, picking him up but still pressing him into the wall, making sure to press into him even harder.

“Zayn,” Niall gasps, and Zayn’s name sounds so good coming from Niall’s mouth. “Zayn, the bed.” 

Zayn turns without hesitation and carries Niall over to the bed, dropping him down onto the mattress and covering Niall’s body with his own before Niall can say another word. 

“I wanna suck you off,” he whispers, kissing across Niall’s jaw and down his neck, over his flushed chest and shaking abdomen. Niall’s so hard, his cock straining against his briefs, and Zayn can’t help but to latch his mouth over the shape of Niall’s erection, sucking at it until Niall pulls his head up.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ come if you keep that up,” he pants, out of breath, and Zayn gives him an innocent smile before sitting up and slowly pulling his damp briefs down, letting his cock slap up onto his belly. It’s thick and flushed pink at the tip and, if Zayn’s being honest, it’s absolutely gorgeous.

“You too,” Niall says, getting up onto his elbows, and Zayn raises an eyebrow, pushing his boxer briefs off his hips and onto the ground. Niall bites his lip and Zayn can’t help but stroke himself in response.

“What, you’ve never seen me naked?” Zayn asks jokingly, getting on his knees on the bed. “All that supposed surveillance you’ve had me under and you never got a video of me jerking off?”

“Regardless of whether or not I have your nudes,” Niall starts, winking up at Zayn, “it’s always nicer to see it all in person.”

He reaches forward and skates his fingers up Zayn’s cock, which twitches in response, spurting a bit of precome out of the tip.

“Fuck, I wanna suck you off too,” Niall says, getting a hand around Zayn’s length and moving it slowly up and down. Zayn gasps at the sensation, Niall’s calloused hands rough on the sensitive skin of his cock, but he can’t take his eyes off of the sight of it. He feels himself leak more precome when Niall swipes a thumb over his slit.

“I don’t know if I can even manage to fuck you properly,” Zayn admits, watching Niall suck at his thumb. “You look so fucking good, jesus.”

“You’ve got to finish what you started, then,” Niall says, moving up to the headboard and pulling a couple more pillows under his head. He spreads his legs and Zayn moves forward without even thinking, has his mouth on Niall’s cock before he even realizes it.

He sucks at the tip for a second, taking a deep breath through his nose and letting himself sink down on Niall’s length until he feels his nose touch the soft skin underneath Niall’s belly button. He’s been trained to have no gag reflex, mostly in case of torture and basic self-defense, but it definitely comes in handy when he’s giving head. And  _ god _ , does he love giving head. 

In fact, he loves it the most when his partner is vocal about it, and Niall hasn’t shut up since Zayn got his mouth on him. He’s gasping and moaning and reaching down to grasp at the hair he keeps forgetting Zayn doesn’t have anymore. Zayn finally relents, pulling off with a large slurp and looking up at Niall. The man’s cheeks are flushed and his hair is sticking out in every direction, as if he’s been combing through it and pulling at it himself, and Zayn grins.

“Good?” he asks, and Niall bucks his hips up in response. Zayn licks up the length of his cock but focuses on just the tip this time, using his hand to stroke past Niall’s balls and onto his perineum. Niall gasps and bucks his hips up but Zayn’s ready for it, pressing at Niall’s prostate hard while letting the man fuck up into his mouth. Zayn can’t help but moan every time he feels Niall’s dick hit the back of his throat, and it’s not even a minute until Niall’s shouting out and coming into Zayn’s mouth, his thighs trembling as he tries to keep his cock inside the wet heat.

“Zayn,” Niall slurs then, “Zayn, Zayn,  _ Zayn _ ,” and it takes all Zayn has to not come right then as well. He swallows down the heady taste and lets Niall’s cock fall out of his mouth. His jaw feels sore and he knows his voice will be a bit fucked come morning, but he’ll do this a thousand times again if Niall reacts the way he just did.

“Get the fuck up here,” Niall says, and Zayn immediately obeys, crawling up the bed on his knees till he’s straddling Niall’s torso. Niall runs his hands up and down Zayn’s thighs appreciatively, looking at Zayn’s cock in an almost predatory way. Zayn reaches out and combs his fingers through Niall’s hair, smiling at the way the blond practically purrs when he scratches his scalp. Niall doesn’t need much direction, though, automatically moving forward to get Zayn’s dick in his mouth. 

Zayn knows he won’t last long, not with the way Niall’s moaning around his cock and digging his nails into Zayn’s thighs, so he doesn’t try and focus on much more than the tip of his cock, sliding it in and out of Niall’s mouth slowly. Niall catches on quick and uses his hands to keep Zayn’s hips still, moving his own head back and forth. Zayn grips Niall’s hair tighter, making the man moan even louder, and soon he’s pulling Niall on and off his dick, and it’s one of the hottest things he’s fucking seen. He’s got full control of Niall, one of the only times he’s ever felt like he has, and seeing Niall so pliant and submissive is what pushes him over the edge. He barely has enough time to pull out of Niall’s mouth and tilt Niall’s chin up before he’s coming on the man’s face, streaking over his cheeks and lips. He looks so good like this, cheeks flushed and hair sticking to his forehead, and Zayn doesn’t hesitate before bending over and kissing him thoroughly, tasting himself in the process.

“You’ve got spunk on your face,” Niall comments, when they break apart, and Zayn rolls his eyes, grabbing some tissues from the bedside table to clean up his face. Then he kind of just sits there on Niall’s torso, studying the man underneath him. Niall narrows his eyes at first but then he starts to blush from the attention, squirming underneath Zayn’s legs.

“What?” he asks, and Zayn gives him a small smile. His head is kind of buzzing at the moment, though, filled to the brim with a dozen different thoughts, and he doesn’t really know how to vocalize any of them properly. He bites his lip contemplatively. Niall must notice the small shift in Zayn’s mood because he stops moving immediately and brings a hand up to rub up and down Zayn’s thigh, his brow furrowed. “Zayn, what’s up?”

Zayn lets out a small laugh, shrugging. “I, um--” he starts, then sighs. “I was kind of trying to figure out if anything had changed now.”

Niall’s hand stills, his touch more tentative now than before. “Do you...want things to change?”

Zayn cocks his head, thinking about it, and then leans over, reaching into the bedside drawer and fiddling around till he finds what he’s looking for. He sits up again and stares Niall down, pointing the gun he’s just procured at Niall’s shocked face.

“Niall James Horan,” he starts, cocking the gun, “you’re under arrest for forgery, grand larceny, and first-degree murder, amongst other charges. You do not have to say anything--”

“What the  _ fuck _ ,” Niall spits, looking both terrified and furious. He moves to disarm Zayn but Zayn stops his hands, catching both of his wrists in his palm and pinning them above his head. He brings his gun even closer to Niall, finger on the trigger. 

“I have to do this, Niall,” he says, as Niall shakes his head. “I’m sorry.”

Then Zayn pulls the trigger, and watches Niall squeeze his eyes shut, expecting the worst, but definitely  _ not _ expecting the stream of water that pours out onto his face. Zayn grins, watching Niall sputter, and squirts him with the water gun a couple more times before letting his wrists go and sitting up straight again.

“Like I said, I had to do that,” Zayn continues, “because you had spunk on your face, too.”

There’s a split second where Niall’s still, processing what’s just happened. It’s a good thing Zayn’s got quick reflexes, because he’s able to jump up off the bed before Niall can get him into a headlock, running into the bathroom, cackling loudly.

“I’m going to fucking  _ kill _ you,” Niall cries, following Zayn into the bathroom and pushing him up against the wall. Zayn can’t stop smiling, though.

“Hi.”

“You’re full of shit. I should knee you in the balls for that.”

“But how would I be able to fuck you if you did that?”

“Zayn, I swear to god--” Niall starts, but Zayn leans forward, kissing Niall to shut him up. This kiss isn’t like any they’ve had before--it’s sweet, playful, teasing. Niall looks less angry when Zayn pulls away.

“Nothing’s changed,” Zayn says, and Niall’s brow furrows. Zayn rolls his eyes. “I mean, nothing’s changed when it comes to how I feel about you. I, um. I was a little afraid that, on my end, at least, this was just a one-and-done kind of thing. And I really,  _ really _ didn’t want it to be.”

Niall relaxes his hold on Zayn. “So instead you made me think you were going to kill me?” he replies, but Zayn can tell that he’s not really that mad.

“I’ve pointed a  _ real _ gun at you before, Niall, I know how easily you can talk your way out of those situations. I wanted to see if you really cared this time.”

“You could’ve just asked me, y’know,” Niall mutters, putting his hands on his hips, but he’s smirking.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Zayn comments, walking over to the shower and turning it on. “Plus, you’re a criminal. Internationally wanted. I wasn’t sure if I could trust anything you said,” he adds jokingly, stepping into the warm spray of water, leaving the door open for Niall to join.

Niall only enters the shower after a minute or so, though, shutting the door and walking behind Zayn, wrapping his arms around Zayn’s waist and hooking his chin over Zayn’s shoulder.

“I’m not going to lie to you,” Niall says, so quietly that Zayn almost misses it with the sound of the water rushing around them. “I might’ve before but I won’t ever again. I want this too, I want us. I want it to be a real thing, a serious, long-term kind of thing. And I know this is, like, fucking crazy, isn’t it? We haven’t seen each other in years and we haven’t even kept in contact in that time--”

“Nothing about this relationship seems rational,” Zayn interrupts, turning around to face Niall, tracing his jaw. “And I have no idea what I’m going to do, Niall, I have no idea what I’m going to say to Ben or to Liam or anyone back home when I check in with them, I have no idea how I’m going to get to spend time with you when I’m supposed to be tracking you down. If I’m somewhere for too long with no results it’s going to become really obvious that something is up and we’re  _ both _ going to get into some deep shit.”

Niall just looks at Zayn for a few moments before breaking out into a grin. “Go on a date with me.”

“Uh, we can’t really be seen in public together right now, Niall--”

“No, no,” Niall says, excitedly. “There’s so many places in the world where we _can_ spend time together, just us two. We can, like. Get to properly know each other, tell stories and go on picnics and everything, all that cute shit. And then you’ll always be moving. We won’t stay anywhere for more than 48 hours.”

Zayn raises an eyebrow. It’s a good plan, actually, will show that he’s on a lead or following Niall’s whereabouts, and what Niall said about doing cute dating stuff--it sounds perfect, to be honest. But there’s still one small issue.

“I’m going to need something from you, each week, at least. Something I can show or talk about to Ben and Liam, so it looks like I’m actually doing something and making progress. If I’m continuously empty handed, that’s grounds to call me back to headquarters and to let Liam have full control of this mission.”

Niall bites his lip. “Okay, okay. Not that I  _ want _ to, but I can give you stuff. Names, first of all, of some awful people that I’ve unfortunately done business with. Stuff I’ve stolen, too, I’ve got it hidden all over the place.”

“You haven’t sold any of it?” Zayn asks, suspicious. Niall shrugs.

“Sometimes it’s just fun to steal. Mostly I just like to do it to show people that their security isn’t as tight as it could be. When people start broadcasting that they have uncrackable safes and impenetrable rooms, that’s when I’m like, okay, they’re getting a little too cocky, let me just remind them that there’s at least  _ one _ guy that can jack their shit.” 

Zayn shakes his head, enamored. “You’re a tit.”

“Some of the time it’s because the stuff they have under lock and key is really fucking stupid, though. I have this one painting that’s literally a white line on a blue background. Like, what the hell? How is that worth millions of dollars?”

“Wait, wait,” Zayn says, shocked. “ _ You _ have the Newman? Onement VI? I was there at that auction. The owners haven’t ever reported it missing.”

Niall blushes a bit. “I, um. I was there too,” he admits, guiltily. “Mostly because you were, to be honest. I was kind of stalking you at that point. I actually took it from them because I saw how much you liked it that day. You almost bid on it, in the beginning, and that was the only piece you kept looking at.”

Zayn stares at Niall, mouth agape. “That painting was sold for forty-three  _ million _ dollars, Niall.”

“I know! And the owners didn’t even display it! They just had it sitting in this vault. They probably don’t even know that it’s gone, which is why they haven’t filed a report about it,” Niall says. Zayn shakes his head again.

“You’re fucking ridiculous, you know that?” he says, but he laughs. “But if you have items like that that you can surrender back to me, then--” he takes a deep breath. “Then this could work.”

Niall beams at that, pulling Zayn in for another kiss, and Zayn suddenly remembers that they’re still in the shower, stumbling back onto the cold tile.

“We should wash up before we prune,” he comments, and Niall shrugs, pulling him in for another kiss. 

Okay, so maybe the actual shower can wait.

\------------


	4. The Clue

\------------

It’s been around 40 hours since Zayn’s arrived in Dublin and he’s never felt so calm in his entire life. Which is weird, considering the situation he’s gotten himself into. And the person he’s gotten himself into as well, he thinks, smirking as he looks down at Niall on the bed next to him, last night’s shenanigans replaying in his head. The other man’s still fast asleep, not as accustomed as Zayn to a regular sleep schedule, probably. Zayn slides out of bed quietly, grabbing one of the hotel’s plush robes that was strewn across an armchair in the room last night. He slips into it, picking up his phone, and steps out onto the balcony attached to the room, sitting at the small table outside. It must be pretty early still, chilly enough to give Zayn some gooseflesh, but he props his leg up on the other chair, breathing in the crisp air. If he still smoked cigarettes he’d probably be lighting one up right now, but he’d learned the hard way that he couldn’t afford the lack of stamina it gave to him. Plus, he didn’t like the emotional dependency either; it made him nervous to think that a substance could control him like that. He waits another five minutes before he hears his phone ring, Liam’s ringtone breaking the early-morning silence.

“Hey, Liam,” he says when he picks up, though Liam sounds nowhere as relaxed as Zayn when he speaks.

“Zayn,” he says, sounding a bit out of breath. Zayn wouldn’t be surprised if he was going for his morning run right about now, but something about the irregularity of Liam’s breathing makes him think that that isn’t the case. “Look. I have it from some good sources that Niall’s in Dublin, and probably not too far from you.”

“Oh, really?” Zayn asks, glancing behind himself through the sliding glass doors into the hotel room where he can see Niall’s sleeping form. 

“Yes, now--” Liam pauses, grunting, and Zayn hears something tear apart. “I’m in a bit of a sticky situation, got kidnapped last night. No big deal, classic operation, I’m working through the escape right now. Not sure where they took me, though.”

Zayn shakes his head. It’s so like Liam to downplay his own fucking kidnapping. “Do you need help, mate? I’m not too far away, probably.”

“No, I’m fine,” Liam says, which Zayn should’ve also expected, because Liam would never ask for help outright. “Just let me-- _ah_!” Zayn hears a creak and a thud, some shuffling, and then Liam’s back on the line. “I think I’m still in Ireland, but I’m not sure where. Fuck.”

“Liam, what the fuck even happened?” Zayn asks. 

Liam sighs. “Okay, maybe I got a little  _ too _ eager with this. It’s possible someone local thought I was a threat or something.”

Zayn snorts. “Yeah, or something.”

“I’m trying to figure out where I am--”

“You have a GPS in your phone--”

“Yes, I  _ know _ , Zayn, I’m trying to--okay, looks like I’m in...Lucan? About a half hour from Dublin.”

Zayn’s stomach drops. He knows that Liam’s going to try to meet up with him, and if that’s the case, then he can’t have Niall anywhere nearby. He was really looking forward to spending some more time with Niall, but it looks like that’ll have to wait. He stands up, walking into the hotel room and over to the bed, watching for a moment how peaceful Niall looks when he sleeps before shaking him awake.

“Whazzat,” Niall mumbles, rubbing at his eyes. 

“Did you say something?” Liam says, over the phone. Zayn puts a finger to his lips to warn Niall and then puts the phone on speakerphone.

“No, nothing, mate. So, okay, Lucan. What’s the best plan of action?”

Niall sits up, alert, when he hears the name of the city, and glances up at Zayn, pouting. Zayn reaches out and ruffles his hair.

“We should meet up, definitely,” Liam says, confirming Zayn’s hypothesis. “I can be at your hotel soon, just need to ensure that my luggage is shipped over from Mullingar properly.”

“Alright,” Zayn agrees, smiling as Niall pulls Zayn’s hand down from his head and clasps their hands together. “Keep me updated.”

“Will do,” Liam confirms, then hangs up. Zayn sits down on the bed and tosses the phone over to the other side of the mattress.

“Good morning,” he says, leaning forward and kissing Niall, making sure that it’s slow and thorough. 

“Mmm,” Niall says, smiling when they break apart. “It sure is.”

“So I hate to be the one to ask you to make the walk of shame,” Zayn starts, smirking, “but you need to get out of my hotel room, honey.”

Niall flips Zayn off but sighs, standing up and stretching himself out. Zayn’s gaze drags down Niall’s torso, catching the way his muscles move and stretch underneath his skin. He’s got innumerable freckles all over his body and the sunlight that’s now streaming in through the glass door illuminates the blond’s skin and makes him look like he’s glowing. Zayn doesn’t realize that Niall’s smirking at him until he speaks up.

“Creep,” he says, and Zayn grins.

“You’re gorgeous,” he replies, and smiles wider when he sees Niall blush and roll his eyes, walking over to the bathroom.

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Malik. Except in my pants,” Niall pauses and frowns, hands on his hips. “Speaking of, have you seen them?”

 

By the time Niall’s changed into his clothes and washed his face, Zayn’s managed to make the bed and get the room looking tidy and not like he’s just had a massive sex romp in it. His phone dings with a text from Liam as Niall steps out of the bathroom.

“Shit. Liam’s in the lobby,” Zayn says, worriedly. Niall rolls his eyes.

“There’s more than one way to get in and out of this hotel, Zayn,” he states, and then cocks his head, giving Zayn a small smile before walking up to him and giving him a gentle kiss. “I’m gonna miss you.”

Zayn’s stomach flutters in worry. “Wait, I thought--”

“I’ll see you soon, you dolt,” Niall assures him. “But I’ll miss you till then.”

“Oh,” Zayn mutters, blushing a bit, and Niall laughs, giving Zayn another kiss before walking to the balcony.

“My ride’s here.”

“What do you--” Zayn starts, then stares, amazed, as a rope ladder drops onto the balcony. Niall winks at Zayn and then climbs onto it, making his way up to the gleaming black helicopter that’s hovering above them. It’s scarily silent, barely making a noise as it starts to fly away right as Niall hoists himself into its seats. Zayn shakes his head as Niall blows him a kiss, and then he’s gone in a blink of an eye, the helicopter zooming away into the horizon.

“What a fucking show-off,” Zayn mutters to himself, sliding the balcony door closed and turning to make sure everything looks fairly normal in his room. He’s already looking forward to seeing Niall again, and figures that he might as well text him something cheesy, but when he gets ahold of his phone and opens up his messaging app, he suddenly realizes that he doesn’t have Niall’s number. In fact, he has no real way of contacting Niall and he has no idea where the hell he’s supposed to go next.

Before he can rebuke himself for not thinking about this sooner, though, there’s a knock at his door. His immediate thought is that it might be Niall, but he’s trained to be safer than that, of course, so he quietly grabs one of the guns he’s stashed around the room--a real one, this time, hidden behind the microwave--and walks to the door, glancing through the peephole.

He’s both disappointed and relieved to see Liam, which is weird, but he opens the door to let the man in.

“Hey--” Liam starts, then pauses, brow furrowing. “Sorry, did I interrupt something?”

“Um,” Zayn says, feeling his heart rate pick up a little bit. Is there obvious visible evidence that Niall was here in his room? He thought he’d taken care of it all. 

“It’s just,” Liam pauses, gesturing up and down Zayn. Zayn looks down and suddenly realizes that he’s been in the hotel robe this whole time, and it’s not tied very tightly, so his chest is completely on display. In fact, it’s so loose that if he jumped, it’d probably come undone.

“Oh, uh. Just got out of the shower,” he lies, and moves aside so that Liam can come in.

“Speaking of, d’you mind if I take one?” Liam says. “I can’t really get a room right now, my ID and everything is back in my other hotel room. They’re gonna bring everything over here, though, and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

“Yeah, yeah, go ahead,” Zayn says, walking over to his bag. “I’ll just get dressed. And lay some clothes out for you?” he asks, eyeing Liam’s outfit. The man’s dressed in all black but Zayn’s been through his share of a rough day and he knows for a fact that the dark color’s hiding a multitude of stains.

“That’d be amazing,” Liam says, looking incredibly grateful. “Thank you, Zayn.”

Zayn gives Liam a smile, unzipping his bag and combing through his stuff. He’s trying to find a shirt large enough to fit Liam when he feels a sting on his finger. He pulls it out of his bag, hissing at the pain, and he’s about to run into the bathroom to make sure he isn’t being poisoned when he sees that it’s just a small paper cut. 

Except--there’s no reason for him to have any loose paper in this bag. He frowns, equal parts curious and worried, and reaches in slowly this time, pulling out a slightly-crumpled piece of the hotel’s stationary. He smooths it out as he starts to reads the words printed neatly on the page.

_ Dear Mr. Malik, _

_ It was my utmost pleasure to have been able to meet you last night. I usually don’t fuck on the first date but for a guy like you, I’d be very willing to break my own rules.  _

Zayn rolls his eyes but can’t help but smile.

_ Speaking of which--the first name I’m going to give you is Cameron Dallas. He’s an American arms dealer, mostly works for his mother, but he’s been learning the ropes of the business as of late, so he’s a good target for you. He should get your team some intel, at the very least, and he’ll definitely drop my name at some point, so yay! _

_ He’s in Paris right now, staying at the Four Seasons, the rich twat, and I have enough faith in you and Payne-in-the-arse to figure out his room number...have fun!  _

_ xoxo,  _

_ Gossip Girl _

_ P.S. -- Our first date is going to be at a location that’s “hidden” in this letter somewhere. Good luck figuring it out ;) _

Zayn frowns. He’d assumed Paris, obviously, since Niall had mentioned it, but he scans the note another time, trying to find a clue as to where Niall’s going to be. It takes him a minute, but he chuckles when he figures it out. Of course, in true Niall fashion, there’s no date or time mentioned for this meetup, so Zayn just concedes to the fact that Niall is going to be waiting for him, just like last time.

He’s so lost in his own thoughts that hearing the sound of the shower start in the bathroom startles him, and he almost takes up a defensive stance before he remembers that Liam’s in the bathroom. Shit. He crumples up the note and tosses it into the depths of his bag, pulling out a shirt and trousers for himself and some jeans and a polo for Liam. It’s his casual outfit, but it’s all he has right now for spare clothes, so Liam’s going to have to deal. He starts to put on his own clothes, scolding himself for lying to Liam, since now he’s going to have to forgo washing up, and puts on a couple splashes of cologne to try and make himself feel fresher. 

He looks in the mirror when he’s done. He doesn’t necessarily feel refreshed, but he’s on edge, and it’s unfamiliar. He can practically see the restlessness in his eyes and it takes him a moment to realize that it’s because he’s  _ excited _ . He hasn’t looked forward to a mission in ages, and for the first time in a long time, he’s finally raring to go.

“Oh, hey, those for me?” he hears Liam say, and looks to see Liam step out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist. For a split second Zayn flashes back to the first day he’d met Liam, the subtle attraction he’d felt, the way they’d kind of danced around each other before Niall had taken his breath away and probably ruined him for anyone else. Why couldn’t he fancy Liam? Things would be a lot easier that way.

“Yup,” he replies, finally, but Liam’s already putting the clothes on. “Hope you can fit in it all.”

Liam smiles over at him. “Yeah, thanks again.”

Zayn almost blushes, though he has no real idea why. “Um, no problem.”

“So,” Liam says, letting out a sigh and sitting down on the bed. “What’s the next move?”

“Well,” Zayn starts, trying to figure out how to phrase his intel believably. “I met up with Eoghan last night. He’s one of Niall’s close friends. He mentioned something about a bloke named Cameron in Paris, said he might have more info on Niall’s whereabouts.”

Liam nods, contemplating. “Did this Eoghan guy seem like a reliable source of information?”

“Yeah,” Zayn lies. “He probably knows more than what he’s saying, with his loyalty to Horan and all, but I looked into Cameron and he seems like a good place to start.”

“Alright, then.” Liam slaps his hands on his thighs, standing up. “Paris it is.”

  
\------------


	5. The Capture

\------------

They get to Paris late that night, what with Liam having to wait for his luggage and all. Zayn’s a bit cranky, he has to admit, by the time they pull up to the Four Seasons, because he’d kind of been hoping he’d be on a plane to see Niall by now, but all the events of the day have transpired way too slowly for his taste. So when they check in and the lady at the desk asks them if they’d like one bed or two, Zayn can’t hold back the incredibly bitchy glare he throws her way. He feels a little guilty as he watches her flush red out of embarrassment, but Liam doesn’t seem to realize what Zayn’s done, just laughing it off and assuring her that two beds will work for the two of them.

When they get into the lift and Liam pushes the button for their floor, he turns over to Zayn and raises an eyebrow.

“You’re in a mood,” he states. Zayn hates that Liam’s grown to be able to read him really well, so he just rolls his eyes.

“I just wanna catch this kid already. Why can’t we just knock his door down again?”

Liam frowns at him. “Zayn, I know you know that that’s not protocol. It could lead to a really messy situation, especially if Cameron’s armed--which he probably is, considering his line of work. I’ve no doubt that he has a few bodyguards with him at all times, at the very least, and you should’ve drawn that conclusion too. What’s wrong with you?”

Zayn sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “Sorry, I--I guess I’m just really eager about catching Niall. Everything else almost seems like a waste of time.”

Liam’s look softens a bit, and he gives Zayn an understanding smile. “I get it. I’ve had missions like that, too. You just have to remember to be methodical because you never know when a mistake can come back to bite you in the ass, y’know?”

Zayn nods, because Liam’s right. He’s neglecting his real job, what he should be doing, and every time he does something sloppily, he’s going to pay for it later. He has to make sure that everything is done by the book so that nothing can be traced back to him or Niall.

When they reach their room, Liam pulls out a bunch of papers he’d put together on the flight over to France, laying them out on his bed. 

“Okay, so Cameron Dallas, son of Gina Dallas--I still can’t believe you got this name, Zayn,” Liam says excitedly. Zayn shrugs. Apparently Gina has been one of the Service’s targets for years now, and they’ve found no good way to get to her...until now.

“Reports say Cameron is a bit of a party boy, likes to vacation a lot--no surprise there, classic spoiled rich kid, it looks like--seems like he’s being trained by his mother to help her run the business.”

“Momma’s boy,” Zayn comments, and Liam smirks at him.

“Takes one to know one.”

“Fuck off.”

“Gladly...if we had a lead,” Liam sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Unfortunately, we don’t know his actual whereabouts, apart from him being somewhere in this hotel.”

Zayn raises his eyebrows, surprised. “Harry couldn’t find it out?” 

Harry was a whiz at getting pretty much all the intel they ever needed. He had that lethal combination of charm, attractiveness, and sincerity that made everyone putty in his hands. But if he wasn’t able to get this info, then this Cameron kid must be under more security than Zayn expected.

Liam shakes his head. “No. We were lucky he was able to book us into this hotel, to be honest. Maybe we could split up, comb through the floors, see if we could find something out?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Zayn mutters, chewing on his lip. It’s not a bad plan, but he’s sure that there’s a smarter way to go about this. “Okay, let’s review--we really don’t know much about Cameron’s interests other than the fact that he likes to party a lot, right?”

“Right,” Liam confirms, and Zayn feels the pieces of a plan click together in his head. Liam must recognize his expression, because he smiles. “You’ve got a plan.”

Zayn smirks. “Maybe. Call Harry.”

 

The club Harry directs them to is equal parts posh and seedy, which is almost kind of impressive. He and Liam made a quick shopping trip a few hours back, and the two of them look horrendously preppy, in his opinion, but no one around seems to care. Zayn sees some young kids with piercings and tattoos making out against the wall in almost no clothing, but then catches a couple dudes in suits at one of the bars, bopping their heads along to the bass-heavy music that’s playing through the club.

“I hope we’re not gonna stick out,” Liam practically shouts, in Zayn’s ear, but Zayn shakes his head. He’d made sure that they both looked like the average rich kid that vacationed in these kinds of places--they needed to blend in if they wanted this plan to work.

He’d found out the kind of bars Cameron had been frequenting, the clubs he’d been spotted and tagged at on Twitter and Instagram, and even what his favorite drink was. This is where Harry was a godsend--that man was able to find information faster than anyone Zayn had ever met. He looks over to Liam, who’s scoping out the place, and catches his eye, walking over to a tall, burly man dressed in black who’s hanging out in one corner of the club, tapping away at his phone. To the untrained eye he’d look like just another bored clubber, but Zayn can tell by his posture that he’s guarding something. He’s trying way too hard to look casual, and Liam picks up on it as well.

“Yo,” Liam says, trying to look and sound as douchey as possible. The guy looks him up and down and then looks back at his phone. Liam frowns. “What the fuck, man?”

“You need something?” the man asks, looking genuinely annoyed. Zayn steps in then, just like they’d rehearsed, pushing Liam back a bit.

“Relax, bro,” he says, then turns to face the stranger. “Look, we just came by because Cam told us to.”

This makes the man pay them more attention, and he pockets his phone, frowning at the two of them. “What did you say your names were?”

“We didn’t,” Liam answers, and Zayn rolls his eyes.

“I’m Lane, and this is asshole is James,” Zayn says, using their usual fake name setup. Zayn prefers names that sound like his, so he can still react naturally to them, but Liam’s trained himself to respond to his middle name, which Zayn still thinks is ridiculously impressive.

“Well then,” the man says. “I’ll just go ask Mr. D if he knows the two of you.”

Zayn feels a small surge of nervousness pop up but he tries to push it away, and shrugs instead. “You could,” he says, trying to sound nonchalant. “Or we could just leave.”

“Yeah, and let Cam know what a dickwad he chose to guard the door,” Liam adds. It’s a bit over-the-top but it’s perfectly in character and it must be enough to convince the man that the two of them are the kind of spoiled brats who would hang out with Cameron, since he ends up moving out of the way and sliding open a door in the wall that Zayn hadn’t even noticed.

“Have a nice night,” he says, as the two of them walk through the door. As soon as it slides shut, Zayn takes a deep breath in, letting it out slowly. First obstacle down. Now all they have to do is find Cameron and get him alone.

Liam turns to look at Zayn, walking backwards. “I need a beer,” he says, just loud enough for some people around him to hear. “You want one?”

“Sure,” Zayn replies, walking over to an empty spot on the large sectional that’s taking up pretty much a whole wall of the room they’re in. He pulls out his phone and pretends to text someone but really tries to scope out the place instead, taking in his surroundings. 

No windows. One door they came through, and at least one other door behind the bar. Third door in the corner of the room to his right, probably a bathroom, might be a window in there. Less than thirty people in this room, no one over the age of forty. He glances to his left and sees a guy who can’t be older than 21 smiling at a couple of petite blonde girls that’re practically in his lap, and recognizes his face immediately.

“Here,” Liam says, appearing in front of him suddenly, handing him a bottle, wet with condensation. Zayn takes a swig. 

“Target at my nine,” Zayn says quietly, still pretending to look at his phone. Liam nods, disguising it as him moving his head to the muffled music, and takes a sip of his beer. 

“I went to the bathroom. There’s a window to the street.”

“Perfect,” Zayn says, then watches as Liam stands up with his beer, walking over to Zayn’s left. He shortens one of his steps and trips forward a bit, making his bottle tilt over so that beer splashes all over Cameron and the two girls he’s sitting with.

“What the fuck, man?” Cameron cries, pushing the squealing girls off of him, standing up to face Liam. Liam holds his hands up, looking guilty.

“Yo, I’m so sorry, man, that was a total accident, I didn’t mean--”

“Who the fuck are you?” Cameron says, “I don’t even fucking know you. Get the fuck out.” He motions for someone to come over and a tall guy walks over from behind the dark of the bar. “Get him out of here. Kick him out of the damn club.”

“Listen, man, I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to--” Liam protests, but the guy has him in a firm grip, dragging him over to the door they came in from. It’s kind of funny, because Liam could take the dude down in the blink of an eye, but he stays in character the whole time. It helps that the burly man outside has a bad impression of him, because he makes sure that Liam's escorted out of the club. 

Zayn moves then, setting his beer down and pocketing his phone, walking over to the bathroom slowly, so as to not draw anyone’s attention. It’s a posh one, by the looks of it, with hand towels instead of paper ones, and a fancy toilet that has a whole remote available to work it. Zayn steps inside and locks the door, quickly jumping up to grip onto the lip of the window above him, and standing on the toilet. He knocks on the window but there’s no response, and he curses. Liam should’ve been out at the side by now. There’s a sound at the door, someone trying the handle but not getting inside. 

“Yo, open up! I need the bathroom,” Zayn hears Cameron’s voice say.

“Goddamnit, Liam,” Zayn mutters, tapping at the window again. Cameron knocks one more time, his voice getting louder. If Liam doesn’t open this window soon, Zayn knows someone’s going to bust the bathroom door down and then he’ll be in more of a situation than he wanted to be. He groans, giving the glass a tap one more time, and then feels a rush of relief sweep over him as the window opens.

“Sorry, sorry,” he hears Liam mutter, but there’s no time for apologies now. Zayn hops off the toilet, flushing it immediately, thankful that there wasn’t some complicated button he had to press for that. He pauses and walks over to the sink, running the water for a second before unlocking the door.

Cameron opens it the second it’s unlocked, giving Zayn an unimpressed once-over as he finishes washing his hands.

“Hurry the fuck up, dude, some asshole spilled beer all over me.”

“Sorry,” Zayn says, grabbing a towel and wiping off his hands, walking away from the sink, towards the door. He takes a couple seconds to look through the doorway and catalog everyone’s locations--there’s no one outside the bathroom waiting for Cameron. Perfect.

“Took you long enough,” he hears Cameron mutter. Zayn closes the door swiftly, locking it. Cameron still really hasn’t noticed anything, too fixated on washing off his shirt, so Zayn walks up behind him, twisting his towel tight. 

They’re the same height, luckily, so it isn’t hard to swing the towel over Cameron’s head and across his neck, pulling it tight against his throat to crush his windpipe. Cameron gasps, hands clawing at the towel, but Zayn’s grip is tight and unforgiving, and he waits until he sees Cameron’s eyes droop before loosening his grip and letting him fall backwards into Zayn’s arms.

“Unconscious,” Zayn confirms, and then Liam’s on his stomach on the ground outside, holding his arms out and reaching into the bathroom so that he can pick up Cameron and drag him into what Zayn hopes is a dimly-lit alley and not a main road riddled with streetlamps. He takes a deep breath and makes the same jump he did earlier, stepping onto the toilet and pushing himself up this time to crawl through the open window and roll outside, letting Liam shut and lock the window behind him. He sits up, panting, and takes a look around--it’s an alley, just like he’d hoped. He grins, turning to look at Liam, who kicks at a knocked-out Cameron with his foot.

“We got him,” he says, and Liam looks over at him, smirking.

“Yeah,” he says, but even in the dim light, Zayn can see a couple of cuts and bruises on Liam’s face that weren’t there before.

“Liam,” Zayn says, concerned, standing up to tilt Liam’s face into the light, hissing as he sees the injuries. “What the fuck happened?”

“Guess I went too far with that dude guarding the door to the VIP area,” Liam starts, shrugging. “When we got outside he decided to make an example of me to the many, many people in line. Didn’t want to risk looking too good at fighting. I got a couple swings at him, though.”

“You need to ice your face as soon as you can,” Zayn says, sliding his fingers down Liam’s jaw, which makes Liam blush a little.

Both of them jump a bit when they hear a groan, and they look down to see Cameron coughing.

“Shit,” Zayn says, looking around them and grabbing the first thing he can find--an empty beer bottle--and smashing it over Cameron’s head. The boy falls back onto the ground, knocked out properly this time, and Liam just stares at Zayn.

“Um,” Zayn starts, unsure of how to rationalize what he just did.

Liam sighs. “Let’s just keep that one out of the official report.”

 

It’s not hard to get Cameron into a cab, then, telling the driver that he’s just their passed-out best friend. Zayn takes a moment to finally breathe in the car, and he looks over to see Liam letting out a pleased sigh. He looks at Cameron, the boy’s head resting on his shoulder. It won’t be hard to get Cameron in the hotel room--

Zayn sits upright, raising his eyebrows. “Shit.”

Even the cab driver jumps at that, giving Zayn a glare through the rearview mirror. Zayn doesn’t even react to that, though, turning to look at Liam.

“We can’t take him through the front door. He’s been at that hotel for a week now, they’ll all recognize him as soon as we step in the lobby,” Zayn hisses, trying to ensure that the driver won’t hear him. “And it won’t look great if we stumble in with him like this.”

Liam nods, and Zayn can practically see the gears turning in his head. “You’re right. There might even be paparazzi,” he adds, and then bites his lip, turning to the driver.

“Hey, sir, could you possibly drop us off at the back entrance of the hotel?”

The cab driver’s eyes narrow. “Why?” he asks, in heavily-accented English. “Trying to avoid photographers? You are all famous?”

Zayn smirks. “Yes. If you take us to the back, there’s an extra--” he finds Cameron’s wallet and pulls out all the cash he can, “--uh, fifteen hundred euros?”

The driver gawks, nodding and making a sharp right turn. Three minutes later, Zayn and Liam are pulling Cameron out of the taxi towards the doors at the back of the hotel. Zayn hands the wad of cash over to the driver, who looks awestruck.

“ _ Bénisse _ ,” he says, almost with tears in his eyes.

“Thanks. We need it,” Zayn replies, pleasantly surprised that his French comprehension isn't as awful as he’d thought it’d be. He hefts one of Cameron’s arms over his shoulders, Liam taking the other one, and they start walking him to the hotel. 

It takes some creative maneuvering to get the three of them into the lift and then up to Zayn and Liam’s room, where they tie Cameron up to a chair. Zayn checks his pulse and feels the bump on the man’s head, wincing as he maps out the size of it. Liam picks up his phone, tapping at the screen a couple times before holding it up to his ear.

“Harry?” he asks, and Zayn hears a muffled mumble on the other end of the line. “Oh. Louis?” Liam asks, confused. “Why are you still in London? I--just give the phone to Harry, please.”

Zayn chuckles, amused, as Liam sighs impatiently. “Yes, hello? Harry? Yeah, I need you to contact Ben immediately and let him know that we have Gina Dallas’ son. And he--what?  _ No _ , Harry, you can’t get a bloody autograph--no, just stop, just get the message to Ben, yeah? And let him know that we’ll see him first thing tomorrow morning.”

Zayn frowns at that. He still hasn’t found a way to avoid going back to London yet, but he sighs as he sees Liam roll his shoulders, trying to relax. They’ve had a long night and they need to get at least a few hours’ sleep before they catch whichever ridiculously early flight Harry’s going to be putting them on.   


“Get some sleep, Liam,” he says, watching Liam nod and unbutton his shirt, making his way to the bathroom. Zayn sighs again, pulling at Cameron’s ties to make sure they’re snug. He grabs his phone and steps outside, closing the sliding door behind him and dialing up Harry’s number.

“Yes, Zayn, I’m booking the flights right now--” Harry says, as soon as the call’s connected.

“No, Harry, don’t, not yet.”

Harry sighs. “Okay, why not?”

Zayn bites his lip. “Because I need you to do me a huge favor. One that you’re going to have to keep a secret from Liam and Ben.”

There’s a pause. “Okay…what?”

“I need you to book my flight to Dallas instead of London,” Zayn answers, smiling at the memory of the note Niall had written to him. “I think--well, I know, actually, that there’s another another lead there.”

“Then why don’t you want--”

“Harry, just--I just need you to change the flight, could you do that for me?” Zayn asks, interrupting the other man. “Please?”

There’s another pause. “Fine,” Harry says, then, after a few seconds, and Zayn breathes a sigh of relief. “It better be a pretty damn good lead.”

Zayn chuckles. “Literally the best lead possible.”

 

The next day, on the way to the airport, Zayn’s a bit of a nervous wreck. 

Since Cameron is such a desired target, the Service has sent over one of their personal planes, a luxury not many get to experience. Liam looks alert and ready to go, while Zayn feels like he’s about to explode with excitement. In less than 24 hours he’ll be with Niall again. 

The car pulls onto the tarmac itself, driving them straight to a private hangar--something that Zayn was  _ not _ expecting. The driver gets out of the car, opening the door for Liam, and then Zayn, eyeing Cameron’s handcuffs warily. The young man is struggling against his restraints, a black bag over his head to keep him from remembering any details about who picked up him and where they're taking him.

There’s a small-ish plane in front of them and a couple of agents walk out of it, introducing themselves to Liam. Zayn tries to hang back and blend in with the surroundings. He wants as little attention on him as possible. He watches the men take a complaining Cameron out of the car, walking him to the plane, as the driver finishes unloading their bags. Zayn reaches for his and swings it over his shoulder.

“Hey, uh, I’m going to take a piss real quick, okay?” he says, and Liam nods, grabbing his own bag and walking over to the plane. The two agents from before come out of the plane again, one of them waiting to take Liam into the plane and the other one walking towards Zayn, smile on his face, hand outstretched. 

“Ashton Irwin, Junior Agent. Real pleasure to meet you, Agent Malik,” he gushes, and Zayn almost smiles at the kid’s enthusiasm.

“Hey, Ashton, there’s been a little mistake. I’m not on this flight anymore, I’m being redirected to follow a lead on the case we’re working. Li--Agent Payne already knows about this, so no need to worry about anything. Just let the pilot know that you’re ready to go.”

“Okay, sir,” Ashton replies, nodding. “Thank you. Do you need an escort to your flight?”

“No, I’ll be fine,” Zayn says, waving at Ashton as he leaves for the plane. He walks over to the driver, who opens the back door for him with a raised eyebrow, and gets into the car, watching the plane start up, the loud sound of its engines buzzing in Zayn’s bones. "Could you take me to the main entrance of the airport?" he asks, and the driver nods.

Zayn inhales, sees the aircraft move forward to align itself with the runway, and doesn’t breath out until he sees it take off.

  
\------------


	6. The Surprise

\------------

Zayn’s pulse has been racing since he walked through the main doors of the airport. He has his ticket on his phone but he has to move carefully through security, with the number of weapons he has on him. Luckily, Harry must have worked his magic, since he’s able to bypass the security check altogether, giving a tight-lipped smile at all the other passengers who glare at him jealously. After fidgeting in the uncomfortable seat at his gate for the better part of an hour, he races onto the plane as soon as he’s able to, finding his seat and sinking into it. He asks the air hostess for an sleep mask immediately and pulls out the noise-cancelling headphones he always carries, slipping them on and sticking a pillow behind his neck. He’s going to be useless if he’s awake; he’ll work himself into a nervous wreck and he knows it, so he figures he might as well take as much advantage of this downtime as he can.

Sleep comes easier than Zayn expects it to, and he passes out after what feels like just a few minutes.

 

It’s the lack of movement around him that eventually wakes Zayn up--there’s no buzzing of the plane’s engine, everything’s completely still. For a moment he thinks that the cabin’s been engulfed in darkness, but then he remembers he’s still got his eyes covered, so he slips his mask off, rubbing at his face and blinking around at his surroundings--

Which are completely empty. There’s no one around him at all. He unbuckles his seatbelt, reaching for his bag and swinging it over his shoulder. The only light source in the cabin right now are the strips of emergency lights on the floor, which cast an eerie glow around the whole place. Zayn leans down and pulls out the small handgun he’d secured in his ankle holster, walking down the lit-up walkway with his gun in front of him. He reaches the front of the plane and stops. The door is open and the stairs are out, but when he glances outside he just sees complete darkness as well. He’s debating if he should walk out or not when there’s the sound of someone clapping their hands together, just once, and then suddenly the area outside is completely lit up by what looks like a million fairy lights. Zayn gapes at the sight--he can see now that he’s in another hangar, but it looks like he’s staring at the night sky. He looks straight down and finally sees the source of the clap with a familiar smirk on his face.

“You’re such a fucking showoff,” Zayn mutters, walking down the steps of the plane until he’s standing in front of Niall.

“Well _excuse_ me for wanting our first date to be special,” Niall replies, but Zayn just grins, swinging his arms over the other man’s shoulders and kissing him thoroughly. It’s addictive, really, being around Niall, and Zayn can’t get enough of it. He practically _just_ saw Niall but he wants even more, so he whines when Niall breaks the kiss, taking a step back.

“Look,” he starts, sounding a little bit out of breath, which makes Zayn smirk, “as much as I’d love to fuck right here, right now, I spent way too much time and money setting this up, so we’re going to have a romantic dinner right here, goddamnit.”

He walks around and Zayn finally notices the small table in front of them, lit up by a few candles. There’s a vase with a couple roses in the middle and a bottle of wine ready to go. Zayn laughs, walking over to where Niall’s holding out a chair for him.

“What a gentleman,” he teases, batting Niall’s hand away when the man tugs at his ear in reply. He walks around to the other side and sits down, smiling up at Zayn.

“So,” he says, and Zayn’s floored almost immediately, because the soft light of the candles makes Niall’s face look so youthful, as if it was years ago when they’d first met. He feels his heart skip a beat as the two of them smile at each other.

“Um,” Niall continues. “Wine?” he asks, and Zayn nods, letting Niall pour him a glass. He takes a gulp of it and sets it down, watching Niall chug his glass and then fill himself up a second one.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Zayn starts, leaning forward and resting his chin on his hands. “But you look a little...nervous?”

Niall scoffs but Zayn can see the worry underneath the surface. “Consider yourself corrected.”

Zayn just raises an eyebrow at that, and eventually Niall groans, rubbing at his face. “Fuck. Okay, look, I’m not good at this whole--” he waves his hands around, “--wooing thing. I’m not someone who goes on dates and, like, does all that. I’ve never had the time to do that, even.”

“You’ve never been in a relationship?” Zayn asks, a bit surprised.

Niall blushes. “Never really cared about stuff like that, until I met you,” he admits, and Zayn beams at that.

“Well how about this,” Zayn says, reaching out and linking their fingers together. “Do your best to woo me tonight. If you do a good enough job, well, there just might be a special treat in it for you.”

“Oh yeah?” Niall asks, leaning in and smiling. “What kind of treat?”

Zayn mirrors his movement, speaking quietly. “I just might eat you out for dessert.”

 

A couple hours later the two of them are stumbling into a posh hotel room, the door barely shut and locked before Niall’s stripping down to nothing and climbing onto the bed, leaning back so that his arse is on full display.

“C’mon,” he says, his gaze pleading, and Zayn just laughs, slowly unbuttoning his shirt.

“Gotta give me a minute, babe,” he teases, taking his time with undressing. He makes sure all his clothes are properly folded and neatly stacked before he finally walks over to Niall, whose lips are pink from the way he’s been biting them. Zayn squeezes at Niall’s bum, spreading the cheeks apart a little bit and running a dry finger across his hole, which makes Niall let out a small squeal, shuddering in anticipation. Zayn reaches across and palms at Niall’s cock, already hard and leaking just from waiting for him. He strokes him a couple times, watching how Niall’s ass pushes back in response, ready for more.

“Hmm,” Zayn says, squeezing Niall’s cheek and watching how his fingers leave white imprints on the pale skin. “Get up.”

Niall looks over at him, annoyed. “I put all that effort into wooing you, Malik, and you’re gonna go back on your promise?”

“You’re incorrigible,” Zayn mutters, waiting until Niall groans in frustration and complies, then lays down on the bed himself. 

“So what now?” Niall asks, and Zayn laughs, reaching for Niall's arm and pulling him onto the bed, kissing him. He feels Niall’s tongue snake next to his own and moans, tugging at Niall’s hair before pulling back.

“Sit on my face.”

The blush that blooms across Niall’s face and down his chest is probably one of the most adorable things Zayn’s ever seen, but Niall seems too desperate to care, immediately turning himself around and positioning himself over Zayn’s face.

“Eager, are we?” Zayn mutters, reaching up to knead at Niall’s ass, and Niall groans, obviously frustrated. He must have had enough because he sits down immediately, not giving Zayn a chance to prepare before he’s rubbing his taint against Zayn’s stubble.

“ _Oh_ ,” Niall moans, loud and drawn-out, and Zayn can feel some pre-come from Niall’s cock dribble onto his chest. He pushes Niall up for a second and catches his breath before pulling Niall back down again, licking at Niall’s rim and feeling the man shudder above him.

“Zayn,” Niall whispers, arching his back and grinding down as Zayn slips the tip of his tongue inside Niall. “Oh my god, fuck, you’re going to fucking _kill_ me--”

Zayn just moans in response, his hands sliding up and down Niall’s damp skin, reaching up to pinch Niall’s nipples as his tongue delves deeper into him. Niall cries out and Zayn can see him grip the base of his cock, shaking as Zayn fucks him with his tongue.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, shifting forward and collapsing over Zayn’s legs. “Zayn, you need to--”

“Hmm?” Zayn hums, too preoccupied by how good Niall looks at this angle, the pale skin around his hole red from rubbing against Zayn’s beard. Zayn can’t help but to rub one of his fingers against Niall’s rim, watching in awe as it slides in smoothly with almost no resistance. Jesus.

He feels Niall bite his hipbone and pinches his ass in reply, which makes Niall whine and distracts him enough for Zayn to add a second finger.

“We need--fuck, where’s the lube,” Niall stutters, moaning as Zayn scissors his fingers. “Stop, you’re gonna make me come--”

“Oops,” Zayn replies, finally finding Niall’s prostate and pushing down on it. The sound of the moan that escapes Niall is one of the most amazing things Zayn’s ever heard, and he decides right then that yeah, he really needs to hear that again.

“Bottom drawer, your left,” Niall says, reading Zayn’s mind, hissing as Zayn pulls his fingers out of him. Zayn leans over and opens the drawer, pulling out an unopened bottle of lube and box of condoms.

“How nice of you to be prepared,” he comments, raising an eyebrow and tearing open the plastic wrapping on the lube. Niall’s shifted around by now, straddling Zayn, so he flips Zayn off, grabbing the box of condoms and practically tearing it open. He opens a packet and rolls the condom down Zayn’s length.

Zayn’s been so preoccupied with watching Niall that he’s almost forgotten about how hard he is himself, and just having Niall’s hand stroke his cock is enough for him to buck his hips up, wanting more. Niall just rolls his eyes, taking the lube out of Zayn’s hands and drizzling it over Zayn’s dick.

“Niall,” Zayn breathes, watching reverently as the man above him positions himself. They both gasp at the same time when the tip of Zayn’s cock presses against Niall’s entrance, and Zayn doesn’t exhale until Niall’s worked himself all way down so that he’s sitting on Zayn’s lap. Niall reaches down and squeezes the base of his cock again and Zayn can’t help but reach out and rub a finger against the slick head of Niall’s dick, watching, amazed, as Niall flushes an even deeper shade of pink than he already is.

Zayn moves his hands to grip at Niall’s hips, holding him in place as Zayn pushes his hips up, grinding into Niall. The two of them moan simultaneously, Niall falling forward, his hands struggling to find purchase on Zayn’s slick skin. Eventually he drops his palms on either side of Zayn’s head, the two of them locking eyes as Zayn plants his feet on the bed, slowly fucking up into Niall. It’s intense and it’s ridiculously personal, but it’s absolutely perfect, the way Niall’s face relaxes in pleasure when Zayn rubs against his prostate.

“Zayn,” Niall slurs, dropping down onto his forearms so that they can kiss, though it’s more just a drag of lips by now. Zayn licks into Niall’s mouth when he can, holding Niall’s hips down and finally fucking up into him, hard.

Niall bites at Zayn’s mouth, neither of them really able to speak very coherently at this point. The air around them smells of sweat and sex and Zayn feels his eyes roll back in pleasure. Niall is hot and tight and _perfect_ and the feel of him around Zayn’s cock combined with the way he’s continuously moaning Zayn’s name is more than enough to hurtle Zayn towards his orgasm.

“‘M close,” he mumbles, mostly into Niall’s skin, licking and nipping at every inch of it he can reach with his mouth. “Niall, I’m gonna come, god, _Niall_ \--”

It feels like his breath’s been punched out of him when he comes, unable to breathe as his hips buck up of their own accord. He holds Niall close, and Niall finds his mouth moments later, kissing him feverishly as Zayn shudders with oversensitivity. His hands are shaky when they grip around Niall’s cock but they move smoothly up and down his length. Niall’s so wet, god, his cock slick in Zayn’s grasp. Zayn speeds up his hand and tangles the other one in Niall’s hair, pulling hard until he feels Niall shout and spurt across his chest and stomach, gripping onto Zayn’s shoulders tightly.

“Zayn,” Niall says again, kissing him, and Zayn finally feels himself relax, letting himself drown in the feeling of Niall’s mouth against his.

“Babe,” Zayn mutters, and slowly rolls them over, wincing as he slides himself out of Niall and ties up the condom, dropping it onto the floor.

Niall grins up at him, looking flushed but happy, and reaches up to trace Zayn’s jawline. “8.5 out of 10, at least.”

Zayn groans, pinching Niall’s nipple and smiling as the man yelps in surprise. “If you didn’t look so thoroughly fucked, I’d be inclined to agree. But this has got to be some of my best work yet.”

“Always room for improvement,” Niall replies, but pulls Zayn down for another kiss. Zayn would be ready to stay here and be kissed to death by Niall, to be honest, but the sweat and spunk on him are starting to dry and he feels gross, mostly.

“We should shower,” he says, and gets up off the bed, holding a hand out for Niall, which turns out to be a good idea, seeing as how the man almost falls when he stands up.

“Goddamnit,” Niall cusses, holding onto Zayn, who can’t help but feel a bit smug. Niall’s legs are a little shaky but he gets his footing in the next few steps, shaking his head. “Fine. Full marks. 10 out of 10,” he concedes.

 

They’re too tired to do much more than lazily kiss in the shower, and by the time they come out, wrapped in plush towels, Zayn is staring at the bed in disgust.

“Should we call for them to change the sheets?” he asks, but Niall just rolls his eyes, walking over to a door in the corner of the room and pulling it open. Zayn looks through and it’s the door connecting them to the next room, which is empty with a perfectly-made bed.

“You got both rooms?” he asks, and Niall laughs, pushing him through the doorway and closing it behind them.

“I thought you found it nice that I was so prepared,” Niall says, letting his towel drop to the floor and walking over to switch the lights off. He slides under the covers and Zayn watches, endeared, as the man pats the empty space next to him. He follows suit, leaving his towel on the floor and crawling in next to Niall.

“I’m thoroughly wooed, by the way, Horan,” Zayn comments, as he combs his fingers through Niall’s hair, still a little damp from the shower. “Good job.”

“Just wait till you see what I have planned for tomorrow,” Niall says, smirking. Zayn shakes his head but his heart is racing at the just the simple prospect of getting to spend more time with Niall, which has to mean something, right?

He opens his mouth to say something but then sees that Niall’s eyes are closed, his face relaxed, obviously already asleep. He smiles at the sight, brushing a thumb across Niall’s cheekbone, and feels the exhaustion of the day finally catch up with him, sighing as he lets his eyes fall closed, sleep taking over him.

 

\------------

 

“Hey, wake up, you tosser,” Zayn hears, before he feels someone poke his cheek. He grumbles, turning over, but then feels a soft kiss on his forehead. “I swear to god, I’m about to pour a bucket of water on you if you don’t get up right now.”

Zayn smiles at that, finally blinking his eyes open to Niall’s amused expression. “Morning,” he mumbles, and Niall just stares at him for few more second before shaking his head.

“I don’t understand how someone wakes up looking as good as you do,” he mutters, and Zayn grins, pulling Niall down for a kiss. He reaches up to comb his fingers through Niall’s hair but Niall stops him, holding his wrist. Zayn pulls away and looks up, finally realizing that Niall’s done his hair and gotten dressed and looks ready to go. He feels his stomach sink a little bit.

“You’re leaving?” he asks, brow furrowed. Niall scoffs.

“As if. I’m just ready to go. Which, by the way, you should be too. We have a lot to do today, lots of ground to cover.” He pinches Zayn’s cheek. “Lots of fun to have. Now hurry up and get dressed. Also, brush your teeth. You have the _worst_ morning breath.”

Zayn sticks his tongue out at Niall but complies, rolling out of bed and walking over to the bathroom. He glances back and catches Niall staring at him intensely and smirks.

“Like what you see?” he asks, loving how the other man is checking him out, his eyes hungrily roaming every inch of Zayn’s body.

“How are you real?” Niall replies, and Zayn laughs, trying to hide his blush as he walks into the bathroom. Niall follows, leaning on the door jamb as Zayn turns on the water in the shower.

“You gonna watch me shower?” Zayn asks, raising an eyebrow. Niall shrugs.

“Just might,” he says, and Zayn shakes his head, smiling, stepping into the shower. He looks through the door and sees Niall watching him, just like he’d said. Maybe he’ll put on a little bit of a show.

 

What starts off as a way to tease Niall ends up with the both of them in the shower, furiously making out and grinding against each other, and by the time they’re both dressed and ready to go for whatever Niall has ready for them, it’s been a couple hours at least. Niall doesn’t seem too bothered, though.

“We’ll have to shift some things around. We can do a late lunch,” he assures Zayn, as they step out of the elevator and into the hotel’s parking garage, where Zayn sees a large, black Range Rover waiting for them.

“Nice ride,” he says, and Niall laughs, sliding into the backseat. Zayn follows him, eyeing the driver curiously.

“Don’t worry, Patrick’s trustworthy. Anyways, let’s head off to the first stop,” Niall says, patting Patrick on the shoulder. The man nods and starts to drive, leading them out of the parking garage.

“Still no clues as to what we’re doing, huh?” Zayn asks, and Niall shrugs, smirking.

“Let’s just say that there’s a reason I asked you to wear comfortable clothes.”

“Oh no.”

Niall rolls his eyes but reaches his hand out and intertwines their fingers together, which makes Zayn blush a little bit. He watches as the man looks through the window, taking in the sights around them. Zayn knows he’s in America, pretty much on a vacation, but Niall’s the most gorgeous sight of all, it seems, since he can’t stop staring at him.

They’re at their stop before Zayn knows it, and Niall practically pushes him out of the car. At first Zayn thinks it’s from excitement, but Niall grabs his hand and runs inside.

“We’re late! They’re about to start!” he exclaims, leaving Zayn with more questions than answers.

“What are we--” he begins, then stops when he sees the room Niall’s pulled him into. The floor’s polished wood and the ceiling is high, fans hanging from the exposed beams, already spinning slowly. The wall across from him is nothing but a floor-to-ceiling mirror, and it’s seeing his own stupid expression that makes Zayn shut his mouth.

“Right on time, mister--?” a man asks, walking up to them and holding out his hand.

“James,” Niall says, easily, and Zayn is a little taken aback at the familiarity of the name. “No need for formalities.”

“Welcome, James,” the man replies. “I’m Zachary and I’ll be leading this class today. This is your…?”

“Boyfriend,” Niall finishes, and Zayn grins at that. “Lane.”

“Great to meet you, Lane. Please, come join the rest of the group,” Zachary says, walking them over to a group of about five or six other couples. The people look them up and down, eyeing their clasped hands a little curiously, but Zayn feels Niall squeeze his hand comfortingly, so he doesn’t pay the others any mind.

“Okay, so now that we have everyone here, I want to welcome you all to this beginner’s dancing class,” Zachary continues, and Zayn turns to glare at Niall, who winks back at him. “Please pair up with your partner, and give yourselves some room from the other couples--we’ll be doing a lot of moving around today.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Zayn says quietly, as he and Niall take a spot in the corner of the studio. Niall just laughs. “I don’t dance.”

“That’s what Chad said to Ryan in High School Musical, but he was lying. And so are you.” Niall replies, putting one hand on Zayn’s waist and holding Zayn’s other hand up. “Now hush up and listen, _Lane_.”

Zayn’s eyes narrow. “Who told you about our fake names, anyways?” he asks, trying to follow the count of the waltz that Zachary is clapping out for the class.

“I have my sources,” Niall says. “But anyways, Payne doesn’t have a monopoly on having James as a middle name.”

“I know,” Zayn says, then cocks his head. “But he’s technically had it longer than you.”

“Yeah, by like, two weeks,” Niall scoffs, switching their arms and walking them backwards. Zayn almost trips but Niall’s grip on him is secure and he tries to find his footing again.

“You’re jealous,” he notes, and Niall throws him a dirty look.

“Well, _duh_ ,” Niall says, spinning the two of them around. “He gets to see you all the time. Gets to work with you, get dinner with you, have drinks with you,” Niall pauses, a small smile on his face, then continues, “gets to get rejected by you when he tries to kiss you in the back of a movie theater…”

“Shut _up_ ,” Zayn says, flicking Niall’s ear. “How do you even know about that?”

Niall shrugs. “I have eyes and ears all around. Anyways, it was one of the Batman movies, wasn’t it? He must’ve liked you a lot to not pay attention to a Batman movie. Isn’t he, like, obsessed with those?”

“Yes. And yes,” Zayn concedes, letting Niall spin them around again. “So, how do you know that I won’t reject _you_ when you try to kiss me in the back of a movie theater? Maybe I’m just not a fan of kissing during movies.”

Niall scowls. “You didn’t go on a second date with him, though.”

“No,” Zayn agrees. “I told him it’d be a little unprofessional.”

“But don’t Lou--” Niall starts, then pauses, shaking his head. “I mean, don’t we work together? Technically? I mean, you’re literally sleeping with the enemy.”

“I suppose,” Zayn says, slowly, trying to understand what Niall was saying before he stopped himself. The man isn’t one to stutter his way through a sentence. “But you’ve got something Liam doesn’t have.”

Niall raises his eyebrows, suddenly very interested. “What? What is it?”

Zayn isn’t planning on answering him just yet and Zachary speaks up right then, which is great since it means Zayn can hold a finger up to his lips and give Niall a disapproving glance so that they can hear the instructor speak. Niall huffs stubbornly and pouts, pulling Zayn close as Zachary starts guiding them through the main movements for the tango.

 

The class finishes soon after--it really is a beginner’s class, but Niall must’ve known that, since he and Zayn were probably the best dancers in there.

“Okay, so what’s next?” Zayn asks, as they step outside. Niall is still pouting at him.

“What’s next is, you’re going to tell me what you hinted at in there,” Niall demands, poking Zayn in each nipple and then in his bellybutton. Zayn laughs. “You tease.”

“Hush. I’m sure Patrick is waiting for us. You mentioned something about a late lunch, right?” Zayn asks, as him and Niall walk over to the Range Rover in the parking lot.

“Yeah, yeah,” Niall sighs, admitting defeat. He knocks on the window twice and then gets into the backseat, Zayn following him in again. “But I don’t think it’s going to be my treat anymore.”

“But _Niall_ ,” Zayn whines, smiling and repeating the action Niall had done on him--poking his nipples and then bellybutton, “you’re so _rich_ and so _handsome_.”

“Only one of those is true,” a third voice says, and Zayn looks forward at Patrick, but the eyes staring back at him look scarily unfamiliar. Zayn looks over to Niall, whose lips are pressed into a tight line. He feels cold metal press into the base of his neck. “And it isn’t the latter,” the voice adds. There’s a clicking sound that Zayn immediately recognizes as someone cocking a gun. “Cooperate with us, Mr. Horan, and your little sugar baby here won’t get his brains blown out.”

Zayn locks eyes with Niall, who looks so unlike who Zayn is used to that it almost makes him physically recoil. The expression Niall has on his face now is murderous, akin to what he’d looked like years ago when Zayn had watched him kill his brother. It’s a side of Niall Zayn had secretly been hoping he’d never have to see again.

“Let him go. He doesn’t have to be a part of this,” Niall says, calmly.

“On the contrary,” the voice continues, and the driver of the car starts moving the vehicle out of the parking lot of the dance studio and onto the road. “We need a bargaining chip, and it looks like the two of you have a little thing going on.”

The man behind them leans forward a little bit, and Zayn can smell stale cigarettes and bad body odor, barely covered up by some cheap cologne. “He’s a pretty little thing, huh? Where’d you pick him up? At some street corner?”

Niall practically growls, jerking an elbow back over the headrest. He must hit the man, because for a split second Zayn feels the gun move away from his neck, and he debates reaching behind himself to get the gun he’s stowed away in his back holster, but before he can move, the gun is back on him, and he can see that there’s a second gun that’s been pulled out, now pointed underneath Niall’s chin. Zayn tries to catch Niall’s eye again but the man is avoiding his gaze, staring up at the ceiling, jaw clenched.

“Drive us back,” the man shouts over to the driver, who nods at him and takes the next exit onto the freeway. “We have a little present for Miss Dallas.”

 

It has to have been at least another hour or so when the car pulls up to what looks like a very nice house in an equally nice neighborhood. Zayn’s gone through a plethora of emotions during the car ride, but now he’s mostly focused on just formulating an exit plan. Niall hasn’t glanced his way even once and there’s a sinking feeling forming in the pit of his stomach.

The driver pulls the car into the empty garage of the house and waits until the garage door is down completely before getting out of the car. He walks up to Niall’s side and holds up his gun. Niall walks out calmly, and then Zayn hears the trunk open, some grunting, and then a large _thud_. The driver’s walked over to his side now, Niall still in front of him, and he opens the door, signaling for Zayn to get out. Zayn steps outside and glances in the back, stomach sinking as he sees the lifeless body of Patrick sprawled out on the concrete floor. His eyes drag up to the man who’d been sitting behind them, who has a somewhat manic grin on his face. There’s a bruise forming on his cheek from where Niall elbowed him, but it only adds to his creepiness. He nods, pointing his gun at Zayn.

“Watch out, pretty boy, or you’ll be next,” he says, motioning towards the body next to him. Zayn blinks up at the man, who obviously doesn’t know who he is. This is good. He can use this to his advantage. 

“Please don’t hurt me. Don’t hurt us,” he says, putting on a soft Southern accent, trying his hardest to sound local and to keep his voice quivering. He doesn’t think this man is clever enough to pick up on how his accent’s changed from an hour ago. “Please, I just--I want to go home. I won’t say anything, I won’t tell anyone.”

“Shut up,” the man says, obviously eating this up. He grabs Zayn by the collar and drags him to the door across the garage, knocking on it thrice. It opens after a second, a pretty, bored-looking young woman on the other side. Her expression changes, though, once she catches sight of Niall, and then Zayn.

“Oooh,” she coos, walking aside and letting them all step in.

“Where’s your mom, Sierra?” the man asks, and the young woman rolls her eyes.

“Downstairs, Rich. Where else?”

The man--Rich--grunts, then pulls Niall ahead and holds him at gunpoint once more, passing Zayn back to the driver, who looks like he couldn’t care less about Zayn’s wellbeing. All the better, Zayn thinks.

Rich pushes Niall forward, opening a set of large double doors in a wall and walking down a set of stairs. Zayn and the driver follow. From the few glances Zayn’s seen of the house so far, he can tell that it’s pretty posh, and the basement is no different. The carpet is plush and a beautiful cream color, and the entire floor is probably as big, if not bigger, than Zayn’s entire flat back in London.

There’s a few people sitting on a sofa--one woman and two men--talking to one another, but the chatter dies down when they see everyone walk in. Zayn vaguely recognizes all of their faces but can’t pinpoint their names, cursing himself for not being more thorough about all the person of interest files that’ve been given to him over the last few years.

The woman stands up and walks over to Rich, who stiffens up a bit. Zayn can’t blame him--she exudes authority. Niall stays still, however, almost looking a little bored at being where they are. Zayn would laugh at that but the woman in front of him seems far too intimidating for him to do anything but stare at her--and after doing so for a minute, it’s easy to see the similarities between her face and Cameron’s.

“Gina,” Niall says, confirming her identity. Gina looks up and down before giving him a devilish smile.

“Niall, dear,” Gina starts, speaking slowly. “Long time no see.”

“Yup,” Niall replies, popping the ‘p’. He nods over to the other men on the sofa. “Did Walsh and Cowell come running to you because I made them cry?”

And then the recognition sets in. The man on the left, shorter, with a round face--that’s Louis Walsh, he heads up one of the largest counterfeit goods businesses in the world. And next to him is Simon Cowell, drug kingpin of the greater UK.

“Watch your mouth, Horan,” Louis says, in a solid Irish accent. Simon just seems amused by the exchange, swirling his drink around in his cup. “Didn’t your father teach you better manners?”

“I killed my father,” Niall reminds him, which shuts Louis up very quickly. “He didn’t have a lot to teach me.”

“You poisoned your father,” Simon clarifies, finally speaking up, taking another sip of his drink. “Bit of a cowardly way to murder someone, in my opinion.”

“I prefer neat, untraceable methods of extermination,” Niall explains, smirking at Simon. “Like what’s in your drink, for example.”

Simon pauses, going still. His eyes narrow at Niall. “You’re bluffing.”

Niall shrugs. “Maybe,” he says. “I like your new place, Gina. Moving to Dallas, that’s cute.”

“Isn’t it, though?” Gina says, smiling. “I bought this place a few months ago, we just finished the renovations.”

“Very homey,” Niall adds on, easily walking away from Rich, who reaches out and tries to hold him back. Niall grabs the man’s wrist quickly, twisting it so tight that even Zayn winces at the _crack_ of the bone. Rich falls to his knees, crying out in pain. Gina rolls her eyes.

“Get him out of here, Vince,” she says, but pauses when she sees the driver put a claiming hand on Zayn’s shoulder. “No, leave this one behind.”

Vince seems disappointed, pulling Rich up off the floor and practically dragging him up the stairs. Gina waits until she hears the doors lock and then turns to Zayn, grinning devilishly.

“Want a drink?” she asks, and Zayn shakes his head. She cocks hers. “Quiet one, aren’t you?”

“He doesn’t know anything,” Niall bluffs, plopping himself down onto an armchair and setting his legs up on the coffee table in front of him.

“He already knows too much,” Louis says, eyeing Zayn. “What’s your name?”

“I--” Zayn starts, reminding himself to sound nervous. “I’m Lane,” he continues, hoping the twang in his southern accent sounds genuine enough. “I just--Niall, please--”

“Kill him,” Louis suggests, and Gina purses her lips.

“But he’s so _pretty_ ,” she comments, and Simon clears his throat.

“I could take him off your hands,” he offers, his voice oily, and Zayn almost shudders at the thought of what Simon might want with him.

“Please, I just want to go back, I won’t--I promise I won’t say anything, Niall, tell them,” Zayn continues, and Niall finally looks back at him, but only for a couple seconds, then sighs.

“If I can’t have him, neither can Cowell,” he states, and Simon scowls.

“Then what? Do we just keep him here? The longer he’s alive, the more he knows,” Louis cries out, and Zayn can see the beads of sweat forming at his brow. He’s nervous about something, and Gina apparently picks up on the same thing.

“Enough,” she announces, and everyone goes quiet, looking at her. “We’re here for a reason.”

She walks over to Niall, leaning down and lifting his chin up with her index finger. “Where is my son?”

Niall has the smarts to look a bit confused. “Who, Carter?”

“ _Cameron_ ,” Gina corrects him, then holds onto his jaw tightly, her nails pressing into his skin. “I know you know who he is, and I know you had him picked up. I want him back here. Now.”

Niall chuckles. “Listen, Gina. I can honestly say I have no idea where your son is right now. Maybe you should’ve put a tracking chip on him or something--”

Gina lets out an angry breath, suddenly bringing her hand back and giving Niall a solid slap across the face. Zayn almost breaks his position to run over to him but catches himself at the last second, instead just watching with wide eyes as Niall rubs the pink skin on his cheek.

“Um, ow?” he says, frowning. “Bit harsh, don’t you think?”

“You have ten seconds to tell me where he is,” Gina says, walking back and snapping her fingers. “Or you die.”

At least five different men show up then, seemingly out of nowhere--a dark corner of the room, behind the entertainment center, out of a closet--and they all point their guns at Niall. He still looks calm and collected, but Zayn supposes that this is the kind of demeanor he has to have when he's dealing with this crowd.

“I don't know where he is, Gina.”

“Five.”

“I'm telling you, I don't.”

“Four.”

Niall sighs. “Look. You can kill me if you want, but you won't get any info--”

“Three.”

Niall rolls his eyes, leaning back in the chair.

“Two.”

Zayn bites his lip. Niall looks like he doesn't care but Zayn has no idea if these guys are actually going to shoot him or not. He doesn't know if it's worth risking blowing his cover, though.

“One,” Gina finishes, but the men around her don't shoot. She blinks and then scowls. “I said one. Shoot!”

The men stay in place, and Zayn can see Gina, Simon, and Louis all looking around, floored. He's pretty shocked himself, and yet Niall looks totally pleased.

“There’s the craic,” he says, and the men all turn in different directions, pointing their guns at the others in the room. Zayn gives Niall a concerned look when there's an AK-47 aimed at him, and Niall scoffs, waving a hand at the men. “Not him, he's with me.”

“What the _fuck_?” Gina cries, and Niall laughs.

“Honestly, Gina, you underestimate me. Do you think I'd really just get into a car without checking the driver? Did you think it would be that easy to catch me?”

“Niall,” Gina says, her voice stern. “You don't want to do this.”

“Frankly, Gina, you can fuck off,” Niall retorts, and Zayn can see Gina’s jaw drop. That must be ridiculous, being cussed out by someone the same age as her son. Niall nods at the men. “Go ahead.”

The men all nod and then hit Gina, Simon, and Louis with the butts of their guns, causing all three of them to crumple to the ground. Niall nods again, satisfied, and then finally turns to look at Zayn, smiling.

“What--” Zayn starts, but the adrenaline is still rushing through him, and he takes a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Niall.”

“Ta-da,” Niall sings, wiggling his fingers. “This is my next big delivery of information, or whatever,” he walking around the unconscious bodies to get closer to Zayn. He scrunched up his nose. “Sorry it was so dramatic.”

“I'm going to fucking kill you,” Zayn states, but he lets Niall pull him into his arms and kiss his forehead.

“I couldn't risk anything,” Niall explains, and Zayn just shakes his head, flicking Niall on the nose right after.

“Fuck off,” he says, and Niall sighs, smiling sadly.

“I’m gonna have to, unfortunately. Your lot is on the way over here. They should be here soon, actually.”

Zayn blinks at him, too surprised to be sad. “I--how?”

Niall winks at him. “I keep telling you, I have my contacts. I arranged for them to be here in, like, twenty minutes. I was hoping Gina would take a little longer to break, but I guess not.”

Zayn blinks at him, amazed. “Twenty minutes?”

Niall rolls his eyes. “Well, you know me. Always living for the drama. I’m usually better at--” he answers, but is cut off when Zayn pulls him in for a kiss. Niall looks pleased when Zayn pulls away.

“I thought you were gonna _die_ , you twat!” Zayn scolds him, finally, smacking him on the arm. “You _fucker_!”

Niall laughs, swatting at Zayn’s hands. “C’mon, did you really think I would be that easy to kidnap? Good job on the accent and playing dumb, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Zayn says, flatly, then frowns. “But, wait, then, Patrick…?”

“I lied about Patrick being trustworthy,” Niall admits, shrugging. “He takes bribes way too easily, I’ve learned, and I also noticed him being a major creep towards the kids of a friend of mine, so he got what was coming to him.”

Zayn shakes his head. “This is ridiculous. You’re ridiculous.” He leans to the side and watches as the men from before--who Zayn had totally forgotten about--work to securely tie up the three unconscious adults on the floor. Niall looks at his watch.

“I have about ten minutes till your guys come, but I need a head start,” he says, Zayn feels his stomach sink.

“Hey,” Niall says, cupping Zayn’s face, “don’t be sad. You know you’ll see me soon.”

“Soon isn’t soon enough,” Zayn complains, kissing Niall again. Niall indulges him for a minute but then pulls away guiltily.

“I really do have to get out of here. Will you be okay with these three?”

Zayn looks over at Louis, Simon, and Gina, all three of them still knocked out. He nods. “I have a gun, I’ll be fine.” He looks back at Niall. “What’re you going to do about Sierra and those guys that drove us here?”

“Oh, they’ve already been taken care of,” Niall says, and grins mischievously. Zayn rolls his eyes.

“I don’t even want to know. Get out of here, you ass,” he says, and Niall presses a kiss to his cheek before jogging up the steps to the main floor. The group of men nod at Zayn and follow Niall up the steps.

When Zayn’s finally by himself, he sighs, walking over to the sofa and taking a seat. He pulls out his gun and turns the safety off, keeping a hold of it. Simon’s glass is still on the table and whatever’s in it looks enticing, but Zayn’s still not sure if Niall was joking or not about the poison in it, so he decides that it’s safer to stay sober for now.

 

Niall really wasn’t kidding about his timing--it only takes another five minutes after he’s sat down for Zayn to hear the basement door opening. He looks over and sees a pair of boots walking softly down the steps, followed by legs and a torso that are a lot more familiar.

“Oh, hey, Liam,” Zayn says, which makes Liam jump. He grins at that and Liam surveys the room, confused.

“I--did _you_ do this?” he asks, and Zayn nods, lying. There really isn’t a better explanation he could give Liam right now. “Harry didn’t really give us any intel regarding our flights out here besides mentioning that you were in the vicinity.”

“Agent Payne?” a voice calls from upstairs.

“Down here!” Liam shouts, and Zayn sees four men come charging down the steps, guns out. “Oh, all clear,” Liam says, waving his hand, and they drop their guns. Zayn recognizes one of them as the one who he lied to at the airport in Paris, Ash-something, but the other three look unfamiliar.

“Agent Malik!” the one he recognizes says, a big smile on his face.

“Hey…Ash,” Zayn replies, hoping his faux pas isn’t obvious. The man must not care, though, a proud expression on his face. Zayn stands up as Liam walks over to him.

“Agent Malik, these are Junior Agents Hemmings, Irwing, Hood, and Clifford,” Liam introduces, and Zayn rolls his eyes.

“First names?” he asks, and Liam side-eyes him, but Ash speaks up.

“Luke, Calum, and Michael,” he says, going down the line, then smiling at Zayn again. “And you know me.”

“Right,” Zayn says, rubbing at the back of his neck. “So.”

“How long have these three been out?” Liam asks, holstering his gun and feeling the pulse of the three adults.

“Not more than a half hour,” Zayn assures him.

“Fuck, that’s _Simon Cowell_ ,” he hears of the Junior Agents say, and Zayn glances over at them, amused.

“And Louis Walsh and Gina Dallas,” Liam continues, looking up at Zayn. “And Sierra Dallas, upstairs. How the hell did you manage to bag all four of them?”

“I, uh. Heard something about them meeting up down here, and I figured I should come and check it out.”

“Right,” Liam says, not sounding totally convinced. He stands back up. “Hey, uh, guys, could you help us get these three upstairs?”

The four junior agents run forward, eager to help. Liam carries Gina, bridal-style, and the other guys split up into groups of two to carry Simon and Louis upstairs. When they reach the main floor, Liam instructs them to set all four adults up for transport. He waits till the guys are outside before turning to Zayn, looking a little annoyed.

“Why the hell didn’t you mention this to me in Paris?” Liam asks. Zayn’s a bit taken aback at the question but he has to admit, it’s a valid point.

“I just--I didn’t think it was a real meetup, Liam, and I didn’t want to bring us out here for nothing. I wasn’t expecting any of this,” Zayn replies, only half-lying.

“Look,” Liam says. “All I know is that we were supposed to work this case together. As a _team_ , Zayn. And I know you have this whole--” Liam waves his hand around, “--thing with Niall that I’ve never understood, but you can’t go keeping information from me like this. What you did wasn’t safe. It was ridiculously reckless, in fact, and you could’ve gotten really hurt.”

Zayn hates more than anything to be scolded by Liam, but he probably deserves this. He knew he’d be answering for what he did in Paris, he just didn’t expect for it to happen this soon.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, and sees Liam relax a little bit. “It wasn’t intentional, I promise. You’re right, I was hoping to catch Niall here.”

Liam nods. “It’s fine, just keep me updated next time, okay? I almost lost it when you weren’t on that plane back to HQ.”

Zayn’s about to reply but he hears a door open and sees Calum walk back into the kitchen.

“Hey, agents? Transport’s here.”

 

\------------

 

Zayn can’t sleep on the plane ride back to London; his mind’s racing. For starters, he already misses Niall, which is kind of ridiculous. But he’s mostly concerned with the holes in his story. He knows that when the they interrogate Simon, Louis, and Gina, they’re all going to single him out and mention him being in cahoots with Niall, being brought in Niall from the car. He has to figure out a good way to explain that to Liam, and needs to tell Liam about it before they land. The last thing he needs right now is to lose Liam’s trust.

He looks over at Liam, who’s also still awake but absorbed in some files, flipping through pages and highlighting shit like crazy. Zayn wishes he loved his job that much--although, to be fair, if he was a better agent, he probably wouldn’t have jumped into this whole crazy plan with Niall in the first place.

“Hey, Zayn?” Liam calls, as if he’d felt Zayn’s gaze on him. Zayn stands up, walking over to the seat across from Liam and sitting down.

“What’s up?” he says, and Liam puts a file down, yawning.

“Nothing. Just looked like you were lost in thought, figured you’d want to talk?” Liam says, and Zayn sighs. Liam is way too good at reading him.

“I need to tell you something,” Zayn starts, glancing around to make sure the junior agents aren’t within earshot.

“What is it?” Liam asks, sounding concerned. Zayn bites his lip.

“I lied. Earlier. Well, pseudo-lied.”

“About what?”

“About how I got the tip about Dallas.”

“Okay,” Liam says, frowning. “So, how exactly did you get the tip about Dallas?”

Zayn clears his throat. “Niall told me.”

Liam doesn’t say anything for a few moments, just giving Zayn a look he wishes he could decipher. Then he sighs, sitting back in his seat. “Niall told you.”

“He said he’d heard you were in Mullingar and figured he could hand off some actual bad guys to you.”

“ _Actual_ bad guys?” Liam asks, eyebrows raised. 

“Also,” Zayn continues, just plowing forward with this, “I was with him.”

Liam’s jaw drops. “In _person_?”

Zayn nods. “He was planning on driving me to Gina’s house but then we got taken hostage in his car and they ended up taking us exactly where we wanted to go.”

“Right,” Liam says, looking more and more exasperated by the second. “And why, pray tell, is he not one of the targets that we picked up today?”

Zayn groans, letting his head fall back onto the seat. “Because he helped catch the four of them.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“No. He got his guys to knock them out and tie them up. It’s not like I could’ve arrested him at that point, there were five or six guys with guns in the same room, all working for him.”

Liam just shakes his head. “Zayn--”

“Look, Liam, like I said before, I was not expecting this, okay? I didn’t even know you guys were going to show up. I just thought he was taking me there so I’d know the address and I could pass it along to you guys. I figured that maybe I could knock him out before we got into the house, but then we were taken in at gunpoint and all the crazy shit went down.”

“Wait, wait,” Liam says, holding a hand up, “what do you mean, you didn’t know we were going to show up? The only reason we came down to Dallas is because you requested it.”

“I--” Zayn starts, confused. What? All he knew was that Niall had arranged for the Service to come to the house. He scrambles to come up with a decent answer. “I meant that I had no idea you were going to come to the house? I requested you all come, of course, but I had a gun on me from the moment I got in, like I said. I never had the chance to send the address over to anyone. Niall didn’t even tell me what it was, he was just taking me over there.”

“Huh,” Liam says, then sits quietly for a minute, chewing at his bottom lip, contemplative.

“Harry must’ve tracked me down via my phone’s GPS, or something,” Zayn offers, and Liam nods.

“Yeah,” he replies, but he doesn’t say anything else to Zayn, so Zayn doesn’t say anything else to him.

In fact, the two of them don’t talk for the rest of the duration of the flight. Sleep gets a hold of Zayn not soon after their conversation, and by the time he wakes up, they’re much closer to the ground than before; they should be landing soon. Zayn looks around the plane.

The sky outside is pink, and the junior agents are sitting on his right, looking like they’re playing a game of cards. But the seat across from him is empty.

  
\------------


	7. The Mole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **WARNING** : This chapter does have some minor character death.

\------------

Zayn’s stomach is turning the instant they land in London. Liam doesn’t say a word to him from the moment the plane is on the tarmac till when they get in the cars that’re driving them back to HQ. Zayn is dying to ask him what’s happening, to try and defend himself, but he’s afraid that every time he speaks, he just digs himself a deeper hole. So he climbs in the back of the car, sitting next to Luke and Michael. The two of them seem engrossed in conversation and Zayn closes his eyes.

He’s not asleep, but after ten minutes or so, the guys next to him must think he is, because he hears them say his name. He tunes into their conversation for a moment.

“--Zayn, or Danny?” Luke says. Michael groans.

“I can’t pick which one of them to kill!” he hisses, and Luke laughs.

“You have to pick one. That’s the whole point of the game.”

“Fine, whatever. Erm, fuck Zayn, obviously, marry Liam, kill Danny?”

“You’re fucking weird. You obviously fuck Liam and marry Zayn.”

Zayn tries his hardest to not smirk at the answer.

“Naw, man, I’d marry Liam. Have you seen his biceps, bro? Also, he’s pretty much the boss. I heard him talking on the phone to Ben last night in the middle of the flight. Sounded super serious, said they had to organize a org-wide meeting for this morning.”

Zayn’s stomach flutters in worry. They only have full team meetings like this for serious issues, and Liam is already suspicious of him. He has no idea what to expect.

 

There’s barely time to grab a coffee at HQ before everyone is filing into the training room in the basement. It’s pretty much the only place large and private enough to have a meeting like this. Harry must’ve set it up already, because all the training dummies have been moved to one corner of the room and there’s umpteen rows of neatly-organized chairs.

All the senior agents always sit in the front row, so Zayn makes his way to the front. He walks by groups of the tech crews and junior agents, all giggling and whispering until he comes into their line of vision--then it’s like they’ve seen a celebrity. They all quiet down and watch him walk by. He nods at Luke, Calum, Michael, and Ashton when he passes them, and he can see the smug looks they give to the other people sitting around them. 

By the time he reaches the front row, it’s pretty much almost all filled up. Liam’s in the leftmost seat, followed by Harry, who’s unsurprisingly managed to worm his way into this row. Louis is next to him, of course, and then there’s an empty seat between him and Grimmy that Louis pats when he sees Zayn walk up.

“Thanks, mate,” he says, and Louis rubs his head.

“You look like death,” he comments, and Zayn shrugs. 

“Long mission,” he offers as explanation. 

“Still on it, though?” Grimmy asks, and Zayn sighs, nodding. Grimmy gives him a sympathetic smile.

“Hi, Zayn,” Harry says, reaching around Louis to rub Zayn’s head as well. 

“Who told you two you could start doing that?” Zayn asks, but Harry just laughs, sitting back in his chair. Zayn takes a breath and looks past him, chancing a glance at Liam. Liam’s got a file open on his lap, as usual, but he’s not really reading, it, eyes looking forward like his mind’s somewhere else. 

The room quiets down when Ben walks in, exuding self-importance. Zayn hears Louis not-so-quietly snort and he hides his smile by taking a long sip of coffee. Ben walks to the podium at the front of the room and stands behind it, smiling at the crowd in front of him. 

“Hello, everyone. Sorry for this last-minute meeting, hope you’re all doing well,” Ben begins. “We’ve put this meeting together because there has been a certain concern that this some...information that’s being leaked from our organization.”

The room is suddenly abuzz with whispers from all directions. Louis frowns and Zayn catches him linking pinkies with Harry. Grimmy leans into his side.

“Did you know about this?” he whispers, and Zayn shakes his head, unsure of what the truth even is at this point.

“We want to emphasize that the classified information discussed amongst us is just that--classified. We will be launching an internal investigation as to who is at fault for the leaks. Senior agents will be interviewing you at random over the course of this week, so please be prepared. If anyone has any information they’d like to bring forward, please contact Agent Payne.”

Ben walks off the podium and out of the room and then it’s like someone’s lit a fire underneath everyone’s asses. People are gossiping like crazy and Zayn has already caught a few dirty glares being thrown around. All the senior agents are still sitting down, though, most of them looking annoyed at the prospect of the interrogations.

“The last thing I need are the tech guys getting annoyed with me and trying to fuck my shit up,” Danny complains, frowning. “Why the fuck would they make us do these?”

“Because there’s a mole, Riach,” Liam says, standing up and brushing his suit off. All the agents turns to look at him. “And we’ve got to figure out who it is. Zayn?” Liam asks, and Zayn jumps, the coffee in his cup almost spilling over. “Could you come with me, please?”

Zayn follows Liam upstairs, chancing a glance back at the row and blowing what he hopes is a comforting kiss to a worried-looking Harry and Louis.

When Liam and Zayn step into the lift in the lobby, everyone clears out, letting them ride in private. Liam hits the button to close the doors and Zayn turns to him as soon as they’re shut.

“Are you going to start talking to me again?” he asks, and Liam shakes his head.

“You’re not going to like what you hear, Zayn,” Liam replies, and Zayn’s stomach swoops. He lets Liam walk out of the lift first when they reach their floor, bypassing their offices completely and stepping up to Ben’s door.

“Come in, Agent Payne,” Ben’s voice says, through the speaker by his door. That’s new.

“Morning, Agent Winston,” Liam says, and Ben motions for the two of them to sit down. 

“You’ve brought Agent Malik in with you again,” Ben notes, sizing Zayn up. “How’s your mission going along? Last I heard, you’d managed to meet up with Horan, but you still can’t catch the bastard, can you?”

“I guess not,” Zayn replies. Ben sighs.

“Well, at least you managed to get us four targets. Or Horan managed to, at least. I’ve been listening in on their interrogations. There’re some pretty interesting stories coming out of their mouths.”

“Oh?” Zayn asks, refusing to give anything away. He doesn’t shy down from Ben’s inquiring stare, and it’s Liam who clears his throat to break the silence.

“Agent Winston, I believe I might have a hunch as to who the mole is.”

“A hunch,” Ben repeats, stretching the word out. Liam frowns.    


“I know it’s not much, but if we managed to break him, we could get the proof we needed.”

Zayn feels his stomach churn again. Ben turns to look at him and smirks. 

“Why did you have me have that meeting this morning, then?” he asks, still not looking away from Zayn. Zayn swallows, his mouth feeling dry, but tries to remain calm otherwise, sighing like this is all boring him.

“I was thinking he’d come forward and confess,” Liam admits. “That’s the kind of character I was hoping he had.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Ben asks, looking at Liam. “But doesn’t the fact that he’s leaking information expose the kind of character he has?”

Liam nods. “You’re right. I just--I know he’s someone a lot of people are friends with, and--well--even I would consider him to be a friend of mine.”

“I’m sure you would,” Ben drawls, looking straight at Zayn again and smirking. “So why don’t you tell me and Zayn here who you think the mole is?”

Zayn chews on the inside of the cheek as Liam sighs in disappointment.

“Harry Styles, sir.”

“ _ What _ ?” Zayn and Ben say, at the same time, both turning to Liam in surprise. Liam looks between the two of them, a bit taken aback himself.

“Yes, sir, it became obvious to me after I spoke with Agent Malik on the plane last night. He mentioned that he’d asked for us to be sent to Dallas, but hadn’t specified the address. He’d said that Niall had known the address, and the only missing link between the two was Styles.”

“Oh my god,” Zayn mutters, under his breath, putting the pieces together. The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. Niall had always known where Zayn was staying, what room he was in, who he was with. The only person that knew those details besides Zayn was Harry. Niall had managed to clear out Zayn’s whole flight, for fuck’s sake, and the easiest way for him to have done that would have been to have Harry book Zayn into a dummy flight. “Oh my god,” he repeats, as it becomes more obvious. Harry was the source, the contact, the eyes and ears that Niall was always talking about.

“We need to take action immediately, sir,” Liam says, and Zayn looks up at Ben, who looks royally pissed. “Horan got brave enough to meet with Zayn in person in Texas, so he must think he has a trump card with Styles as his informant. We need to fire him immediately.”

“We need to do more than just fire him,” Ben says, his jaw clenched. “That little  _ whore _ .” 

Zayn frowns at Ben, turning to look at Liam, but Liam looks just as surprised as him.

“Sir, we won’t be able to get the information we want without Styles’ cooperation. And to do that, we have to go through with this formally.”

Ben glares at Liam but then nods curtly. “Fine. So what do we do now?”

“Nothing,” Liam says, and Ben looks thoroughly disappointed at that. “We monitor his activity, keep the other internal interrogations going on, make him think that he’s exempt from them, or something like that. Make sure his guard is down. Then we catch him the next time he contacts Horan.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Ben answers, after a few seconds, though he’s looking off into the distance as if his mind is somewhere else. “You’re both dismissed.”

“I--alright, sir,” Liam says, obviously a little surprised. He stands up along with Zayn and the two of them leave Ben’s office. Zayn waits till they’re out of the reach of Ben’s cameras before pulling Liam aside.

“What the  _ fuck _ , Liam?” he asks, and Liam shakes his head.

“I told you you wouldn’t like what you were going to hear,” Liam says, “but just because it’s someone we’re friends with doesn’t mean it’s not serious.”

“Uh, hello?” a voice says, the door right behind them opening. Louis looks at the two of them, eyebrow raised. “What’s all this whispering going on outside my office?”

Zayn feels his stomach sink. Oh, fuck. There’s no way Louis doesn’t know about what Harry’s been up to. Liam must have the same thought as Zayn, because he squeezes his eyes shut.

“Shit,” Liam says. Louis looks confused.

“What?”

 

To say that Louis is angry is an understatement.

“This is bullshit,” he says, and Liam shakes his head.

“I know you don’t think it’s true, Louis, but it is. Harry feeding information to Niall is the only explanation for all of this.”

“No, there has to be  _ some _ other person that has access to the same things as Harry? What about the tech crew? I bet they could all feed details about our missions over to Horan. Why Harry?”

“This is why we say to not get involved with other employees of the Service, Louis,” Liam starts, and Louis just scoffs, shaking his head. “We need you to be unbiased!”

“Right, of course. Unbiased. Sure, Liam. Like you haven’t been trying to get into Zayn’s pants since the day you met him.”

Zayn’s never seen Liam turn the shade of red he does then, and Liam walks up to Louis, jabbing his chest with his index finger.

“Enough,” he says. “You’re going to stay with me tonight--the  _ both _ of you, in fact--so we can make sure that nobody gives Harry any warning. He’s going to be detained and questioned tomorrow. The worst case scenario is that he gets fired, Louis. Don’t make it more awful than it already is.”

“Ben seemed to think that we should do more than just fire him,” Zayn reminds Liam. 

“Fuck Winston,” Louis spits. “That prick is just mad because Harry won't sleep with him. He's tried to ask Harry out, like, twenty times. Harry almost quit because Winston wouldn’t leave him alone.”

That explains Ben’s comment about Harry, then. Liam still shakes his head.

“I don’t care. This isn’t about that, this is about the fact that Harry’s lost the trust of this entire organization.”

“I haven’t trusted this organization since that piece of shit became our president,” Louis replies.

“At least that piece of shit hasn’t been giving away our secrets,” Liam says. “All we know so far is that Harry’s spoken to Niall, but what if there have been others he’s talked to? What if all of our failed missions have had to do with information he’s given away? Look, I hate to admit it, but the best shot we have right now is Harry. End of discussion. Louis, Zayn, you’re both staying the night with me.”

 

Harry sounds disappointed when Liam, Louis, and Zayn approach his desk later that day to let him know about them staying over at Liam’s place.

“Oh,” he says, looking at Louis. “I, um. Does it have to be tonight?” he asks, sounding so sad that even Zayn feels culpable. Louis looks positively heartbroken, closing his eyes and sighing. Zayn can only imagine the guilt he must feel at leaving Harry alone on a night when the man must desperately want someone to be by his side.

“Yeah,” he says, and Harry’s expression crumbles. He does a bad job of hiding it but nods in understanding.

“Thank you, Harry,” Liam says, his tone a bit cold. Zayn can almost feel the glare Louis sends Liam’s way.

That night is far from comfortable. Zayn can’t sleep, riddled with anxiety, and Louis is the same. The two of them run into each other at three in the morning, Louis on his way back from the bathroom, Zayn heading towards it.

“I’m gonna have a smoke,” Louis says. Zayn nods, following him to the balcony. Zayn figures he might as well pee here, so he pulls his pants down, peeing through the railing. Liam lives high up enough that Zayn can’t even see where his piss lands, but Louis is laughing through the whole thing.

“Want one?” he asks, eventually, holding the cigarette out. Zayn is tempted but he knows it’ll only lead to relapse he doesn’t have the time for. 

“Nah, I’m good,” he says, and Louis raises his eyebrows, impressed.

“When you said you were quitting, I didn’t think you were gonna last this long.”

Zayn chuckles. “Neither did I.”

Louis hums in understanding, then speaks up after a few moments of silence. “Harry believed in you, though. Said that you wouldn’t smoke again.”

“Bless him,” Zayn says, and then Louis looks over at him with an expression on his face that Zayn can't decipher.    


“He just wants the two of you to be happy,” he says, finally, and Zayn’s jaw drops. 

“He--” Zayn starts to say, but doesn’t know how to finish his sentence. Louis shrugs.

“That’s the only reason, y’know, is because he’s known Niall since they were kids. Harry almost got pulled into a criminal thing himself, when he was younger, but he couldn’t do it. He’d always spend his time with Niall because they were like the only two kids who didn’t want to do what their dads did.”

Zayn frowns, confused. “Robin?”

Louis shakes his head. “No, Des, Harry’s biological father. Big into illegal imports. Drugs, guns, animals, you name it. Harry never really saw the whole point of it all.” Louis smiles. “He’s a sweetheart. Like I said, he’s rooting for you and Niall.”

“He shouldn’t have put himself into this position, though.”

Louis  _ tsk _ s. “What he did was his choice, Zayn. You wouldn’t have been able to talk him out of it, either. God knows I tried.”

Zayn sighs. “I hope they go easy on him tomorrow.”

“He’s a charmer, he’ll be alright. They’ll just make the two of us sign a bunch of NDAs. And he knows he doesn’t have to work, not with the kind of money I make. He just likes to do it because he gets to talk to everyone.”

Zayn laughs, nodding in agreement. He looks over at Louis and feels a sudden, unexpected wave of emotion sweep over him. He reaches out, pulling Louis into a hug and planting a kiss on his forehead. “Love you, bro.”

“Ew, get off me,” Louis says, but he’s laughing. He reaches up to rub Zayn’s head, grinning. “Love you too.”

 

\------------

 

Neither Louis nor Zayn walk into the office with much sleep under their belts the next morning, but they’re both a lot more calm than before, which Zayn is thankful for. Zayn refuses to enter the building through any other way but the secret tunnel, to Liam’s chagrin, so Louis joins him, and they’re both laughing when they exit into the lobby. Louis makes a beeline for the front desk, where Harry’s sitting, smiling but still looking nervous. Zayn walks up behind him.

“How was your sleepover?” Harry teases, and Louis rolls his eyes.  

“Not as fun as our sleepovers, unfortunately.” Harry smiles a little wider, which makes Zayn grin too.

“Morning, Harry,” Zayn says. 

“Hey, Zayn. Wanna join us for lunch today?” Harry asks, and Zayn nods. Louis grabs Harry’s hand and presses a small kiss to it, winking at him as he and Zayn walk over to the lift.

“Catch you later, hot stuff,” he calls, and Harry’s laugh echoes through the lobby.

The day goes by slower than usual, Zayn thinks. He spends the majority of it staring at his Niall Wall, as he refers to it now, filled with photos and articles of the man, red string everywhere like Zayn’s in some fucking cop show. He can’t come up with one solid idea as to where Niall is, though, because he’s always been sneaky, and the one person he now knows he can ask for hints is someone he’s not supposed to be talking to. Speaking of--he glances up at the clock, surprised to see it’s only eleven. He’d thought it was much later in the day, with the way that he’s been feeling.

There’s a knock on his door and then Louis peeks his head in. “Heyo, Z,” he says, opening the door and walking in. “Liam said we can’t leave the premises for lunch because we could mess this whole interrogating thing up, so I was thinking we could order in. Anything you’re in the mood for?”

“Well,” Zayn stands up, walking over to Louis. “I think it’d be unfair to not include Harry in this discussion. You know he’ll just whine the whole time if we get something he doesn’t like.”

“Ugh, you’re so right. Okay,” Louis agrees, and the two of them walk to the stairs.

“Race you down?” Zayn asks, then takes off, practically jumping down the steps.

“Cheater!” Louis cries, thudding after him. Zayn laughs but he doesn’t get to keep his lead for long--Louis has actual footie training in his past and he catches up with Zayn easily. The two of them hit the ground floor at the same time and race over to Harry’s desk.

“Harry! Keep track of who gets to you first!” Louis calls, but Harry’s not at his desk. The two of them reach it at the same time, though, panting. 

“I win!” Louis says, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. Zayn laughs.   


“As--as if,” he breathes, turning around and frowning when he sees Harry right there. “Hey, no sleeping on the job,” he scolds, reaching down to poke at Harry’s scalp. 

“Wake up,” Louis cries, laughing as he walks around behind the desk, leaning down to give Harry a kiss. “Harry, babe, wake--” 

Louis stops mid-sentence, frowning. “Harry?” he asks, and Zayn’s stomach falls. He can feel a sense of dread wash over him but he refuses to acknowledge it, refuses to think of the worst case scenario.

“Harry,” he says, walking over around the other side. Harry’s always been a heavy sleeper. He brushes the curls off his face but freezes when he sees bright red splotches in the whites of Harry’s wide-open eyes. 

“Harry,” Louis says again. Zayn moves robotically, not even thinking about his motions as he picks up Harry’s arm, pressing two fingers to his wrist. He looks over at Louis, who’s staring back at him, the blood drained from his face. 

“Please,” Zayn says, though he doesn’t know to whom, waiting to feel a pulse. He stands there for almost a whole minute, eyes locked with Louis, no movement at all underneath his fingertips. 

“No,” Louis says, softly, and Zayn closes his eyes. “No!” he hears. “No,  _ no _ \--”

“Louis,” he says, and opens his eyes to see Louis shaking his head, staring at Harry’s lifeless body, walking backwards from Harry’s desk. 

“No,” Louis says, “he did this. He--” Louis pauses, looking up at Zayn. “I’m going to kill him.”

“ _Louis_ ,” Zayn says, desperately, but Louis takes off, running for the stairs again. Zayn cusses, gently placing Harry’s hand down and running after him. “Louis, you can’t--”

“He did this, Zayn,” Louis shouts, bounding up the steps, two at a time. Zayn can feel his own legs burn with the effort but he knows how disastrous it’ll be if he loses Louis now. “ _ Move _ !” Louis shrieks, and Zayn sees Grimmy and Caroline looking shocked, pressed up against the banister.

“Get downstairs now,” Zayn says. “ _ Now _ . Don’t let anyone near the front desk.”

“What--” Grimmy starts, but Zayn interrupts him.

“ _ Now _ !” he yells, loud enough to get the two agents following his orders. Zayn keeps running up and finally makes it to the top, just in time to see Louis turn the corner.

“Louis!” he calls, and Liam’s door opens. 

“What’s with all the commotion?” he asks, and both him and Zayn look over to see Louis walking up to Ben’s door. He doesn’t even bother knocking, just walks right in.

“Fuck,” Zayn says, pushing the door open behind Louis, but Louis already has his gun out, aimed at Ben’s forehead. Zayn hears Liam come in behind him.

“Jesus,” Liam says, closing Ben’s door. “Louis, what are you doing?”

“Harry’s dead,” Zayn says, though it doesn’t sound real, even after everything he’d just seen downstairs. Liam gapes at him, glancing from Zayn to Louis.

“ _ What _ ?” he asks.

“Ben killed Harry,” Louis continues, cocking his gun. “Didn’t you, Ben?”

“Now, now, Louis,” Ben says, staring Louis down. “Let’s not jump to conclusions.”

“No one else would have done this, Winston,” Louis replies. “He was going to fucking tell you everything. Why the  _ fuck _ would you--” Louis pauses, his breath hitching. Zayn can see tears falling from his eyes now. “You  _ murdered _ him, he didn’t do anything--”

“He was leaking information.”

“And that’s punishable by  _ death _ , now?” Louis cries out. Zayn can see that Louis’ hand is shaking a bit, and he catches Ben glancing over at it as well. Zayn moves his own hand automatically, resting his palm on the handle of his own gun, still in its holster. He’s about to pull it out when he feels a hand wrap around his wrist, holding him back. He looks up in shock at Liam, who has a stern look on his face, shaking his head. Zayn grits his teeth.

“Let go of my hand, Liam.”

“Zayn. This is not a good idea--”

“Let  _ go _ ,” he hisses.

“You deserve to die,” Louis says, and Zayn turns to see Louis move even closer to Ben, finger twitching on the trigger. “You’re a piece of shit, you know that? No one here likes you, Ben. Not one single person gives a flying fuck about you.”

Zayn catches Ben’s expression flicker into a scowl for a moment but then he schools his features back to nonchalance. Zayn moves to step to Louis but Liam’s grip is tight, holding him back. He growls and lifts his arm up, spinning around fast enough to twist Liam’s arm behind his back. Liam shouts in surprise and lets go of Zayn’s wrist. Zayn pulls his gun out, moving towards Louis, and sees Ben stand up. 

Everything moves in slow-motion, then. Louis finally lowers his gun, but Ben pulls his own gun out. Zayn screams Louis’ name but he can’t move forward, he doesn’t know why. He’s trying to reach out for Louis, trying to tackle him to the ground, trying to aim his own gun, but he can’t move. He sees Louis’ eyes widen in realization, but Louis can’t move fast enough, now that he’s let his guard down. Zayn watches in horror as Ben cocks his gun, aims, and shoots.

Louis’ body crumples, falling to the ground. Zayn can’t stop screaming, can’t stop staring at Louis, at the bullet hole in his head. There’s blood pouring out everywhere, his ears are ringing, and Zayn still can’t get to Louis, and he doesn’t know why, until he looks down and sees that there’s two strong hands gripping his forearms, holding him back. Zayn yells out again and Liam pulls him back, pressing Zayn’s arms into his chest. 

“ _ No _ !” Zayn finally hears himself say, “ _ no,  _ Liam, let me  _ go _ , no--” Zayn struggles, but it’s useless. He feels his heart start to race, and all he can do is stare at Louis, at his eyes, wide open like Harry’s were.

“It was self-defense,” he hears Ben say, and he looks up in shock.

“He  _ lowered _ his gun!” Zayn screams, loud enough for even Ben to wince. “He lowered his _fucking_ gun, Ben, he wasn’t going to shoot you!”

Ben frowns at him, and Zayn can’t believe himself when he starts cackling, almost maniacally. “Yeah, Ben. Shoot me, now. First Harry, then Louis, then me. Then who else? Are you going to kill everyone who makes you mad? Calls you names? Rejects your dates?”

“Get him out of here,” Ben says, through clenched teeth, and Liam hauls Zayn up, but Zayn is literally kicking and screaming, determined to make this as difficult for Liam as possible. 

“You--fucker!” Zayn cries out, “I want to--Louis, I need to--please, Liam,  _ please _ \--”

Liam doesn’t listen to him, though, dragging him out into the hallway, where Danny and Ant are standing, shocked. 

“He killed him!” Zayn screams. “He fucking  _ shot _ \--he shot Louis,” Zayn sobs, finally going limp in Liam’s arms. “Louis, he--”

“Danny, Ant. Take him home,” Liam says, passing Zayn over to them, his voice steady. “He’s in shock.”

“ _ Fuck _ you, Liam,” Zayn spits. “You saw it too. Don’t tell me you didn’t see it too. Louis put his gun down. He knew it wasn’t worth it, he wasn’t going to go through with it, and Ben, he--shot--” Zayn’s breath hitches as he feels tears run down his cheeks.

“Take him  _ home _ ,” Liam repeats, and walks back into Ben’s office, slamming the door shut behind him.

  
\------------


	8. The Choice

\------------

Zayn doesn’t leave his flat for a week.

The first couple days are full of mostly anger and guilt, and he must leave about fifty threatening voicemails on Liam’s phone. He can’t sleep--every time he closes his eyes, all he sees is Louis bleeding out in front of him--so he just lays in bed for hours, staring at his ceiling, trying to figure out just where the hell he should go from here.

By the third day--or maybe it's the fourth, he's not so sure anymore--he feels more numb than anything, and sits, staring, at the crumpled pack of cigarettes he’s found in the pockets of one of his old jackets. It’s tempting to dive back into the addiction, he knows, but all he can think about is what Louis had told him, about how Harry had believed in him to quit the habit, and he’s stepping out onto his balcony before he can even think about it, chucking the pack over the railing.

The rest of the days pass in a blur. Hours move by quicker than Zayn expects, and he’s wondering if he’s supposed to just return to work like nothing happened or if they’ve assumed that he’s left for good. He’s contemplating reaching out to Danny or Ant when there’s a knock at his door.

He stares at it, a bit confused, almost wondering if he’d just imagined it. But then the knocks happen again, louder this time.

“Zayn?” a muffled voice asks, but Zayn can make out who it is before he even gets to the door. “Zayn, please, let me in.”

 

It’s kind of ridiculous how easily Zayn had forgotten about Niall in all of this, especially considering the fact that Niall was all he’d been able to think about for ages before all of this. He’s quiet as he watches the man shift on the other end of the sofa.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Zayn asks. Niall winces a little bit at that, probably because of the formality of it all.

“Um, no, I just--I wanted to see how you were doing,” Niall says, and Zayn nods, suddenly hyper aware of how he must look. He hasn’t showered in close to a week, he’s wearing old, ratty clothes, and his flat is a pigsty. Great.

“I’m fine,” Zayn lies. He has no idea why he’s acting like this. Part of him wants to jump into Niall’s arms, to take comfort in the fact that there’s someone here who’s going through pretty much the same loss as him, but another part of him is holding him back, urging him to keep his distance from Niall, and he doesn't know why.

“I, uh,” Niall starts, after a couple awkward minutes of silence, “I’ve never been to your place before.” He gives Zayn a small smile.

“You’ve photographed it enough,” Zayn replies immediately, his tone biting. Niall looks hurt but Zayn isn’t even feeling guilty about that at this point--he just feels angry again, for whatever reason.

“Zayn, what are you--”

“Why me, Niall? Why did you have to choose me to fuck around with?” Zayn asks, then, surprising even himself. But it’s like he’s slowly coming to a realization, one he almost doesn’t want to be having. It’s awful, but it’s the only thing Zayn can find some comfort from right now, so he just steels his features and waits for Niall to answer him.

“Fuck around--what are you talking about?” Niall asks him, looking a bit exasperated. “What are we doing, Zayn? I’ve been waiting for you to call for days now, and you haven’t given me as much as even a text. I thought I’d come by just to make sure you were alive, at the very least.” Niall sighs, looking heartbroken. “I don’t know why you’re acting like this. I’m going through the same thing as you. I lost the same people.”

“Yeah, but you knew that you would, didn’t you?” Zayn says, quietly, and feels a sick sense of satisfaction from the surprise in Niall’s expression. “You know that everyone who gets close to you dies. You knew the kind of trouble Harry and Louis could get into, the consequences they could face, and you still wormed your way into their lives.”

Niall stares at Zayn, agape. Zayn has no idea where any of this is coming from but it’s the first time in days that he’s felt anything at all and he’s not ready to let it go.

“And now you’re here with me, helping to make the hole that I’ve already dug myself into even deeper. What if someone sees you coming to my apartment, Niall? What if someone finds out I’ve been talking to you again, after my best friends just got _murdered_ for doing the same thing?”

Zayn stands up, his voice getting louder as he jabs a finger into Niall’s chest. “Did you think about that before you just waltzed in here? Did you think about the target this puts on my back? No, you didn’t, you never do, you just always assume everything is going to turn out perfect and fine for you, because you’re great at saving your own ass but _shit_ at watching out for the people that you supposedly care about.”

Niall looks furious now, his cheeks pink with anger as he stands up, eyes level with Zayn’s. “Don’t do this, Zayn. Not now.”

Zayn lets out a laugh. “Why? Why not now? Now is the best time to talk about it, Niall. Please, tell me how it isn’t your fault that Harry and Louis are dead.”

Niall stays silent, though Zayn can tell that his hands are shaking and his eyes are already welling with tears.

“Tell me why you never had someone keeping an eye on the two of them to make sure that they wouldn’t get hurt, Niall,” Zayn finishes. He’s crying, now, but he’s not sure when he started. There's a long pause as the two of them just stare at each other silently.

“I did,” Niall says then, finally breaking the silence, a bitter tone to his voice. He pushes past Zayn, yanking open the front door and turning around to look Zayn in the eye. “It was supposed to be you.”

Niall slams the door shut, but Zayn can barely hear it over the white noise in his head.

 

\------------

 

The day of the memorial service comes faster than Zayn expects it to. He was the one who’d helped organize it, of course, but its arrival just solidifies the reality of the situation, of the shitshow that his life’s become.

He tries to push that aside, though, when he arrives at the park that the service is being held at. It’s a gorgeous day, honestly, which has to be a testament to Harry and Louis, if anything. It doesn’t take long for the seats to fill up. Actually, the crowd of attendees seems to extend for quite a distance more than he’d planned, but he isn’t too surprised. Harry and Louis definitely had that kind of effect on people. He stops to talk to the members of their families, offering his condolences and support, then walks over to the small podium that’s been set up at the front.

“Hello, everyone,” Zayn says, offering the people in front of him a small smile. “We’re gathered here today to celebrate the lives of Harry Edward Styles and Louis William Tomlinson--two of the most amazing men I’ve ever met, if I’m being honest.” Zayn pauses, looking down at his speech. He’d written something in advance, of course, but now it just seems too formal, like something Louis would roll his eyes at. He smiles wider at the thought.

“I was just, um,” he starts, explaining himself, “I was just thinking of how much Louis would’ve hated the speech I have written for today. He would’ve called it pretentious and boring, probably.” There’s some laughter from the crowd and Zayn grins. “I had some stuff written down about their lives, how they met, and how much they loved each other, but honestly, I...well, I’d rather just talk about how they were simultaneously the most ridiculous yet endearing couple I knew, y’know? They’d be finishing each other’s sentences and meals. They always knew what the other was thinking. The two of them had so much love in their hearts, and I just feel so lucky to have been able to be a part of their lives.”

Zayn motions over to the area behind him. “I know some of you are confused as to what exactly we’re doing today, so I’ll try and explain as best as I can. Harry told me a long time ago that when he died, he wanted to be cremated. He was afraid that if he’d be buried, he’d come back as a zombie at some point and he just couldn’t handle the idea of potentially hurting so many people like that.” The crowd laughs again, and Zayn smirks. “And Louis, of course, agreed to whatever Harry wanted. Which was also to be turned into a tree, apparently,” Zayn adds, and everyone laughs again, turning to look at the small sapling that’s been planted behind the podium.

“A tree represents life. It also represents protection, love, and selflessness, all qualities that I associate with Harry and Louis. So as strange as this is, I can understand why it was chosen. And I can guarantee to you all that this will become a strong, beautiful tree. Not only because Harry and Louis are literally helping it grow, but also because I’ll be coming to visit it every week and I’ll be damned if anyone tries to mess with it in any way.” Zayn smirks, looking out into the audience. Almost everyone has a smile on their face, which is what he wanted. What Harry and Louis would’ve wanted. He feels warmth bloom in his chest at the sight.

“Harry and Louis would’ve been so happy to see all of you here, I know it. I urge you to remember how happy they were, and to let that be the memory you carry of them. Thank you.”

 

\------------

 

There’s a whole spread of food set up at the tables on the grass, but there’s so many options that Zayn can’t figure out what to choose. He knows he went a bit overboard with this but he doesn’t care--Harry and Louis deserved something like this. He sighs and takes one of everything, loading up his plate.

“Hey, man,” he hears, and turns to see Danny and Ant standing behind him. Zayn gives them a smile.

“Hey,” he replies.

“Doing alright?” Danny asks, and Zayn nods.

“Taking it one day at a time. You lot haven’t cleared my office out yet, have you?” he jokes, and the brothers smile.

“Nah, not just yet,” Ant teases him, “but I have snuck in a few times to steal some of your hot sauce.”

“Prick,” Zayn says, but he’s smiling. He walks over with the brothers to one of the many standing tables that’ve been set up around the area. Grimmy and Caroline are there as well and they smile at Zayn when they see him.

“Now there’s a sight for sore eyes,” Grimmy says, and Zayn laughs.

“When’re you coming back?” Caroline asks.

“Not sure,” Zayn says, giving her a shrug.

“Hopefully soon,” another voice says, and they all turn to see Liam walking over to them. Seeing him makes Zayn’s stomach flip a bit and suddenly he’s not so hungry anymore. He sets his plate on the table. “There’s no shortage of new cases.”

“What’re you doing here?” Zayn asks, and the table gets silent. Liam stops in his tracks, his eyes wide.

“I came to pay my respects, I--”

“Hello, everyone,” a voice interrupts him, and Ben walks up behind Liam. “Good to see you, Zayn.”

“Out. Get out,” Zayn says immediately. He sees Liam looking guiltier by the second.

“Now Zayn, I don’t think that--” Ben starts, but Zayn is in front of him in the blink of an eye.

“I don’t give a _fuck_ what you think,” he hisses. Ben clenches his jaw. “If you thought for even a _second_ that either of you were invited to this, then you’re both even more stupid than I’d expected.”

“Zayn,” Liam warns, but Zayn just rolls his eyes, laughing.

“We’re not in the middle of a fucking debriefing, Liam. We’re at a memorial for two innocent men that Ben murdered.”

“I didn’t kill Harry,” Ben says, frowning.

“You’re a terrible liar,” Zayn counters.

“Watch it, Malik.”

“Bite me, Winston.”

Ben’s cheeks burn in embarrassment. “If you’re going to have this kind of attitude problem, then don’t bother coming back to the Service.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Zayn says automatically, then blinks, surprised at himself. He’d been trying to figure out if he should go back or not, but he’d been torn between staying or leaving. Looks like he just made his decision, though.

“Zayn--” Liam starts.

“So it looks like you’re not my boss anymore. Which is great, because it means I can do this,” Zayn says, and slams his fist into Ben’s jaw. He hears bone crack, which is so damn satisfying, and watches as Ben falls down to the ground. Liam’s hand closes around his arm but Zayn’s ready for it this time, and he twists Liam’s arm around, pushing him back against the table.

“The next time you try to hold me back, Liam, I’ll kill you. Got it? We’re not partners anymore and we sure as hell aren’t friends, so if you think that I’m going to have any issues with fucking you up, you’re wrong.”

Liam’s eyes widen and Zayn lets go of him, brushing his suit off before pulling Ben up to a sitting position by his collar. He’s bleeding from his mouth and it looks like a few of his teeth are missing too. Good.

“Listen to me carefully,” he starts. “Unless you want me to drag your pathetic, pompous ass over to the parents of the deceased to show them who killed their sons, I’d suggest you leave. Now.” He drops Ben’s collar so the man’s head hits the ground again and then turns to the other agents.

“Um,” Grimmy says, and Caroline glares at over at the taller man. “Right. So...”

“You four are welcome to stay, if you’d like,” Zayn tells them. He turns back around to see Ben still on the ground, rubbing his head, and Liam still staring at him, shocked. “I said _go_!” he finally shouts, and watches Ben scramble back a bit before getting to his feet and stumbling back to the parking lot, a hand on his jaw. Liam looks at Zayn for a second more before turning and following Ben.

“Fuck,” Danny says, and Zayn pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I need a drink.”

 

About an hour and several beers later, Zayn’s feeling the repercussions of his actions: the hand he’d used to clock Ben is bruised to hell and back. It doesn’t hurt as much in the present, what with all the alcohol in him, but he knows it’s going to come back to bite him in the ass later if he doesn’t take care of it now, so he ducks into the little tent the catering team has set up to try and find some ice for it. There’s no one else around, so he has to do a little bit of drunken digging, but he finds an ice bucket and burrows his hand into it, sighing at the relief it brings him.

“That was a good punch you gave him.”

“Thanks,” Zayn slurs, then belatedly realizes that he has no idea who’s just talked to him. “Wait, who’s there?”

He turns around as someone walks into the tent. They’re wearing what look like a pair of extremely expensive shoes, so that’s what catches Zayn’s eye first, and then he slowly lets his gaze travel upwards until he’s looking into incredibly familiar blue eyes.

“Oh,” he says, dumbly, his brain trying to process what’s going on.

Niall frowns at Zayn’s hand. “You’re going to get frostbite,” he says, walking over to Zayn slowly. He picks up one of the cloth napkins from a stack at the end of the table and places some ice cubes in it, twisting it up tight. He pulls Zayn’s hand out of the bucket and Zayn swears he can feel Niall’s fingers burn into his skin, even though his hand is mostly numb. Niall wraps the napkin around Zayn’s hand, making sure that the ice is sitting on his knuckles, and then ties it tight across his palm. “That should work better.”

“Thanks,” Zayn says again, looking at Niall.

“I liked your eulogy,” Niall says, giving Zayn a small smile.

“Thanks,” Zayn says for a third time, sounding like an absolute idiot. “I mean, um. Thanks for coming, too. I know how risky it is for you to be here.”

Niall shrugs. “I guess.”

“I--” Zayn starts, but he’s not sure what to say. I’m sorry for being such a prick? Everything I said was way out of line? I can’t believe you’re still talking to me? I don’t deserve to be with someone as forgiving you?

Niall smirks. “Probably not, yeah.”

Zayn blinks at him, confused, until he realizes that he’d said everything out loud. He feels himself blush.

“Niall, I--” he tries again, but Niall cuts him off.

“Look, Zayn, we all grieve in different ways. It was wrong for me to think that I should’ve come to see you, because that was definitely selfish. I was there for myself, not for you. I should’ve known that you would have reached out to me at some point. I just...got impatient, I guess.”

“I was a dick,” Zayn says. “You don’t have anything to apologize about, Niall, god, I’m--” Zayn feels himself start to tear up. Fuck. “I’m such a dick, I can’t believe I went off on you like that. I just needed someone to blame for everything and you were there and I just lost it. It’s not your fault, none of this was your fault. God, I made you _cry_ , Niall, I was so mad, even after you left, I was so mad at myself for doing that to you, and I didn’t want--”

“Zayn,” Niall whispers, and he’s somehow made his way over to Zayn at some point during Zayn’s rambling. He cups Zayn’s face in his hands and it’s such a familiar and comforting feeling that Zayn can’t help but to close his eyes and melt into it, putting his own hands over Niall’s in an effort to keep the other man’s hands there.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, and opens his eyes to see Niall smiling at him.

“Are you drunk?” Niall asks.

“No,” Zayn says, and loses his balance at that moment. He yelps and falls forward but Niall catches him easily, wrapping his arms around him so that they’re hugging each other. Zayn sighs and lets himself tuck his face into Niall’s neck.

“I missed you,” Niall says.

“I’m going to get your suit all wet,” Zayn mumbles, his face still damp from the tears and his wrapped hand steadily leaking water onto Niall’s suit jacket. Niall laughs.

“I have more than one suit, Zayn,” Niall assures him.

Zayn lets go of Niall and stumbles backwards a bit as he steps out of the hug. “Whatever,” he says, finally smiling back at Niall.

“So,” Niall continues, looking particularly endeared. Zayn loves that. “What’re you doing for the rest of the week?”

“Nothing,” Zayn says. “I’m officially unemployed.”

“Same here,” Niall teases.

“Interesting, that,” Zayn replies. “You staying in the area?”

“I have bags in my car, but I haven’t booked a room anywhere just yet.”

“Good,” Zayn grins.

 

\------------

 

Zayn blinks his eyes open to dim light. He’s disoriented for a second but then he realizes that he’s in his own bedroom, so he must have made it home from the memorial service in one piece. He shifts a little, trying to untwist the sheets around his waist so that he can run to the toilet, but freezes when he feels someone move behind him.

He turns around slowly and sees a patch of blond hair poking out from underneath his comforter. It’s like all the drunken memories from last night hit him at once and he suddenly remembers all that happened with Niall. Fuck. His head starts to pound and he groans, finally managing to get himself out of bed. He hobbles over to the bathroom, taking a quick piss and then finding some painkillers in his medicine cabinet.

When he opens the door again, Niall seems to have waken up and is blinking up at him, looking thoroughly sleep-rumpled and incredibly adorable.

“Morning,” he says, and Zayn can’t help but smile.

“It’s nice to see you in my own bed,” Zayn comments, and Niall grins back at him.

“Oh, yeah. You gave me a very drunken, _very_ thorough tour of your flat last night. I had to get you to your bedroom once you started telling me about where you bought every single towel in your linen cupboard, though.”

“Your loss. You probably missed out on some great information,” Zayn says, and then reaches out a hand to comb through Niall’s hair. He winces as he moves it, though, and pulls it back to examine it, eyes widening as he sees the dark bruises across the knuckles.

“Ouch,” Niall says, fingers tracing lightly over the darker skin. "Looks worse."

“Oh yeah, I punched Ben,” Zayn recalls. Niall laughs.

“You sure did,” he confirms, then leans down and presses a small kiss to Zayn’s hand. Zayn bites his lip to stop from smiling wider.

“I, um. I don’t remember too much of last night,” he says apologetically. “Did we, uh. Talk?”

Niall nods. “Yeah, I think we worked it out. But if you wanted to do it again sober, we could.”

“I do,” Zayn assures him. “Just, um, probably not right now. I’m still trying to get this hangover out of my system, and I don’t know how well I’d be able to discuss things while my head feels like it’s about to explode.”

“Lie back down,” Niall suggests, and so Zayn does, turning his head so he can look at Niall. The light flitting through his curtains shines through Niall’s hair and lights up a halo around his head.

“Wow,” Zayn mutters, and Niall raises an eyebrow. “It’s nothing, just. You’re really gorgeous, y’know?” Zayn swallows, feeling guilty. “I missed you.”

Niall smiles. “I’m here now. And I’ve got one hell of a hangover cure.”

“Oh yeah?” Zayn asks, but for some reason he’s not at all expecting Niall to slip under the sheets and pull his briefs down. He lets out a little yelp of surprise but laughs, letting Niall undress him before he wraps a hand around Zayn’s length.

“Missed you, Zayn Jr.,” Niall says, and Zayn lets out a groan.

“Oh my _god_ , Niall--” he chides, but cuts himself off when he feels Niall’s mouth around him. “Fuck.”

Niall moans, his throat buzzing around Zayn’s cock. He’s not trying to take it slow at all, and Zayn hopes that it means that he’s just as desperate for this as Zayn is. Zayn feels himself hit the back of Niall’s throat and he lets out a loud moan, pulling the sheet off of the two of them so that he can look down and see Niall’s pink lips sucking at the head of his cock.

“I’m not gonna--fuck, I’m gonna come soon if you keep that up,” Zayn stutters, and Niall winks up at him, speeding up his tempo and adding his hand to the mix, jacking Zayn off while swirling around the tip with his tongue. It only takes another minute or so of this before Zayn lets out a broken moan and comes. Niall keeps his mouth on him until Zayn whines and guides Niall's head off his dick.

“You taste so good,” Niall mumbles, kissing up Zayn’s chest and then finally pressing their mouths together. Zayn suddenly realizes that this is the first time they’ve kissed in weeks and he can’t help himself, licking into Niall’s mouth greedily, feeling the other man moan and shiver above him. He can feel the hard length of Niall’s cock where it’s trapped in his briefs. He goes to wrap a hand around it and winces again.

“Niall,” he says, and Niall shakes his head, grinding back down against Zayn’s hips and shuddering.

“I can--” he starts, gasping as he rubs against Zayn.

“Just from this?” Zayn asks, amazed. He can’t help but to slide his hands down the back of Niall’s briefs, squeezing at his ass and spreading his cheeks apart. Niall groans louder and Zayn moves his own hips up to meet with Niall’s. Niall doesn’t stop moaning Zayn’s name as he fucks down onto Zayn, his hips moving faster and faster until he gasps and comes, biting down hard on Zayn’s collarbone right after.

“ _God_ ,” Zayn mutters reverently. “You’re so fucking hot, oh my god,” he adds, watching as Niall sits up, chest heaving, his hair sticking up in all directions and eyes sparkling. Niall laughs, climbing off the bed and then peeling off his underwear. He makes a face at it and walks over to the bathroom, where Zayn can hear the gentle _thump_ of it being dropped in the waste basket.

“Classy,” Zayn says, when Niall comes back into view. The other man sticks his tongue out at him but straddles Zayn’s hips again, smirking down at him.

“You want some breakfast?” Niall asks, and Zayn grins.

 

Niall’s somehow managed to conjure up all the ingredients for a proper fry-up, and Zayn’s plate is ready for him not long after he finishes washing his face.

“Wow,” he says, sitting down and waiting for Niall to join him with his own plate.

“ _Bon appétit_ ,” Niall announces, grabbing a fork and digging into his breakfast with immense enthusiasm. Zayn starts off slow but then quickly discovers just how hungry he is, finishing his plate at about the same time as Niall.

“Christ,” he breathes, patting his full stomach. Niall nods in agreement, already looking like he’s ready for a nap, even though they just woke up. “Don’t fall asleep.”

“I won’t,” Niall assures him, even though it looks like he’s already halfway there. Zayn shakes his head, smiling. He grunts and gets himself out of his chair, picking up his and Niall’s plates and then taking them to the sink and rinsing them out. He’s placing them in the dishwasher when he feels Niall’s hands snake around his hips.

“Oh, hello,” Zayn says, and Niall hooks his chin over Zayn’s shoulder.

“Hi. So, I was thinking...” Niall says, and Zayn raises an eyebrow. “Well, I thought maybe it’d be nice for us to take a little vacation.”

“Haven’t we already?” Zayn asks, and laughs as he sees Niall scrunch up his face in annoyance.

“Whatever. I want to take a trip around the world, though. I haven’t been around Asia in a while, and we could check out Greece, Egypt, Mexico…”

Zayn smiles. “Sounds like fun,” he says, and feels his stomach do a little flip at Niall’s excited reaction.

“It will be, I promise.” Niall beams. “We’re going to do a ton of fun shit, we can go rock climbing, snorkeling, I was even thinking--”

There’s a loud ringing that interrupts Niall, and both him and Zayn look over to the coffee table, where they can see Zayn’s phone lighting up against the glass. Zayn gives Niall an apologetic look and then walks over to the sofa, plopping himself down and answering the call before he remembers to look at the caller ID.

“Zayn?” Zayn hears Liam say, and he automatically puts the phone on speaker as Niall sits down next to him.

“Liam,” Zayn replies, and then hears some papers shuffle around.

“Actually, it’s me and all the other Senior Agents,” Liam says, and Zayn hears them say hello. His brows raise in understanding. It’s the fucking Monday morning meeting.

“What can I help you with?” he asks. Niall rolls his eyes, and Zayn reaches over to poke at his nipples and then his bellybutton. Niall grins in recognition.

“Listen, Zayn, I--well, we all think that what happened yesterday was unfortunate,” Liam says, and Zayn suppresses a snort.

“Okay,” he says. He hears Liam sigh.

“I’ve spoken to Agent Winston and while he is, understandably, not very happy with your outburst yesterday, he’s willing to give you another chance here at the Service.”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “Oh my gosh,” he says sarcastically. “I’m so happy he changed his mind. I was so afraid that he’d think that I didn’t like him or something, given the way I knocked his teeth out.”

There's a laugh on the other side of the line. “Thanks, Grimmy," Zayn says, smirking.

“Zayn,” Liam says, slower this time. “Please don’t shrug this off. This is the only chance you’ll get to return to the Service.”

“Liam,” Zayn says, in the same tone of voice. “Please tell me why I’d want to come back when I hate my boss and I have a total dickhead for a manager?”

There’s silence on the other end for a minute or so. “Zayn,” Liam says, finally, sounding a bit exhausted. “Please just tell me what it’s going to take to get you back here.”

“I’m not coming back, Liam,” Zayn answers. “Look, I don’t--I don’t have the same kind of drive for the job as you guys do, and I think I was only ever good at my job because there was one person I wanted to catch so badly, and now--” Zayn turns to look at Niall, who’s smiling softly, “--I’ve already caught him. So I’m all set.”

“You’re with Niall?” Liam asks. Zayn laughs.

“Not at the moment,” he lies. “But I’ll be seeing him soon, actually. On my world tour.”

“Your world tour?” Liam repeats.

“Yup,” Zayn says. “Niall’s going to fuck me on every continent.”

“I-- _what_?”

“Bye!”

  
\------------


	9. The Confrontation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **WARNING** : This chapter does have descriptions of minor character death.

\------------

Zayn's a bit amused to find out that Liam wants to lay him off in person. It’s so like him to have to be so anal about all of this--Zayn quit informally weeks ago, this whole meeting is just a setup for him to tell Zayn off.

He’s already at the tail end of cleaning out his office when he gets the message from Liam. Zayn doesn’t have a lot he wants to take with him, just some pictures of family from his desk and the diploma from his wall. He’s already torn down all of his research on Niall, dumping it in the trash. He’d brought a large box with him, expecting that he’d be filling it up with files, but now that just seems petty and like a colossal waste of time. Everything around him reminds him of this job and he doesn’t think he’d ever be able to stand having it around him from now on. He looks over at his computer again, seeing the small red notification, and sighs. He walks out of the room, dropping the pathetically empty box in the hallway, and walks over to Liam’s office.

“You can come in,” Liam calls, just as Zayn raises his hand to knock. Zayn slowly turns the knob and enters the room, his expression blank.

“Hello, Zayn,” Liam says, his tone painfully formal.

“Liam,” Zayn replies, because he’s not going to let Liam feel like this is a polite, cordial process they’re going through--it’s life-changing, a slap in the face of the world they’ve built around themselves. He sits down, making sure to stretch himself out, watching Liam watch him. He’s tempted to prop his feet up on Liam’s desk, too, but the other man’s jaw is clenched and he looks ridiculously on edge and Zayn’s too tired to fight right now.

“You’re probably wondering why I called you here,” Liam starts, and Zayn snorts.

“Not really. Kind of obvious, actually, don’t you think?” he replies, tracing the small carvings around the edge of the table. He glances up to see Liam looking the exact opposite of what he’d been before; now he looks broken, sad, exhausted.

Liam clears his throat. “This has been building up for a while. Your adherence to the rules of our organization have always been...questionable.”

Zayn chuckles. “Oh, is that what you’ve decided to say on the report?”

Liam ignores his comment. “Your violations include use of controlled substances--” Zayn snorts again, “--working out of dress code, and…” Liam pauses, sighing heavily as he looks up at Zayn, “sexual relations with your adversary.”

“I didn’t know falling in love was a crime,” Zayn quietly remarks, his fingers tracing over the edge of the desk again. Liam winces a bit at the L-word but Zayn stares at him intently, then sighs, standing up and reaching into his pockets, tossing his ID onto the table, along with the keys to his car, office, and locker.

“And your gun?” Liam asks. Zayn laughs.

“Just one?” he retorts, eyebrows raised. He lays his gun on the table, slipping his extra ones out of the holsters on his ankle and back. “There. Am I done now?”

“Zayn, please.”

Zayn shakes his head and walks away from the desk. When he’s halfway across the room, Liam pipes up again.

“The moment you step out of this building, you’re an enemy of this organization. We'll track you down. We _will_ kill you.”

Zayn turns around and smirks. “Good luck.”

Liam sighs. “Ben’s a good man, Zayn.”

Zayn scoffs. “Right. Of course. That's why you're _so_ okay with him running this organization, right?” Zayn glares at Liam. “You hate him as much as I do. Except that you're just too much of a fucking coward to admit it.”

There's a pause after that, during which Liam and Zayn stare each other down, both stubbornly refusing to budge. It's Liam that gives up eventually, sighing and bringing his gaze down onto the table in front of him.

“Why him?” he says, then, so quietly that Zayn almost misses it. “What does he have that I can’t give you?”

Zayn walks back to the desk and leans in close, hands on the wood, still looking at Liam.

“I can’t believe, after all this,” Zayn begins, furious, “after what you did to me, after what you let Ben do to Louis--you’re still hung up on me. As if you’ll ever have a chance with me again, Liam. As if I could ever trust you.” Liam frowns. Zayn sighs, stepping back, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You should've said something that day, Liam. You should have stood up for Louis.” Zayn catches Liam’s fingers clenching into a fist when he mentions the man's name. Good. “Ben never gave two shits about me, but he would've listened to you. You could have stopped that, he could've still--” Zayn bites his lips, blinking fast to keep the tears that've managed to show up away. He lets out a shaky breath. “But you didn't. You let it seem like what Harry did was something horrendous and warranted the pain and suffering Ben put us all through. You decided that your fucking _job_ mattered more to you than the people who care about you. You're just-- _god,_ you're just so fucking obsessed with all this shit! And it doesn't even matter!” Zayn cries, hands slamming down onto the desk again. Liam looks up at him angrily.

“You can't say that, Zayn. You can't act like what we do doesn't matter.”

“What we’re supposed to do is save lives, Liam. We try to keep the good guys around. And you didn't do that. Your real duty, Liam, is to the people around you, who trust you with their lives,” Zayn replies. “Louis was one of those people, y’know? He would've taken a bullet for you.”

“I would've done the same for him if--”

“You had your chance to do that, Liam. Literally.” Zayn shakes his head. “You had your opportunity, but you chose to hold me back instead, chose to let Louis die alone when he could’ve at least had me by his side.”

“Ben would’ve killed you,” Liam replies, and now he looks like he’s tearing up. “If you had been there, next to Louis, Ben would’ve shot you too, Zayn.”

“You’re wrong.” Zayn shakes his head. “I would’ve shot him first.”

Liam is quiet for a minute, then sniffs and finally speaks up. “I couldn’t lose you, Zayn. If you had died in front of me, I--I don’t know what I would’ve done.”

“You’re really that fucking selfish, huh?” Zayn asks, and Liam looks like he’s been slapped across the face. “God, Liam. You fucked up. You really fucked up.”

“Zayn--”

“I’m done,” Zayn interrupts, turning around one final time and walking away.

“Zayn,” Liam calls, right when Zayn’s hand is on the doorknob. His voice is quieter, more reserved, as if he’s admitting defeat. “Please,” he pleads.

Zayn pushes the door open and takes a deep breath. “You said you didn’t want to lose me,” he starts, shaking his head. “But look what’s happening now.”

He walks out of the room before he can hear what Liam has to say to that, stepping down the dark hallway he’s never really liked, past all the closed doors that’ve given this place such a gloomy, cold feel. He stops in front of his door and picks up the box but can’t help but let out a growl, walking up to the wood and kicking at it in fury.

It’s a solidly built door, of course, so it doesn’t budge, but the sound is enough for some people in the offices around him to look into the hallway curiously. Zayn looks around and catches the concerned gazes of Grimmy, Caroline, and finally, Danny and Ant. He stands there, watching the two men look at him sympathetically.

“Thank you,” he says, because if it wasn’t for them, he wouldn’t have been able to meet Niall, the only good thing that’s come out of being in the Service, it seems.

“Zayn--” he hears one of them say, but he’s already turned around. He forgoes the lift and walks to the stairs instead, racing down the flights until he steps into the lobby of the building. He walks over to the desk there, still smelling vaguely of strawberries and vanilla, and, for the first time, sits down on the chair behind the desk.

He’s amazed at the view this gives him--he can see almost right up the stairs and right out the front door. No wonder Harry got to know absolutely everyone who came to this place. He looks around at the desk, smiling softly at the multi colored post-it notes everywhere. There’s so many pictures around, photos of him and Louis smiling and sharing kisses, pictures of him and his sister, of his mother and stepfather, of him with his arms slung around Zayn and Liam’s shoulders. Zayn shakes his head, gathering all of the photos carefully, placing them in his box--all except the last one. He stands that one up at the front of the desk and makes it face the lobby, so that anyone walking up to here will be able to see it.

Zayn leans back in the chair, looking around. He finds a couple journals tucked into the corner of the desk, as well as a thick black binder and a few unopened candles, and puts them all in the box, along with whatever small possessions of Harry’s he can find in the drawers on his left and right. Harry’s computer is still in front of him, the laptop large and imposing, and though Zayn doubts that there’s any information about the Service on it, he’s sure that there’s _some_ way to trace what’s on this machine back to Niall, so he unplugs it and closes it, placing it in his box as well.

When he sits back up, there’s a small flash of color that catches his eye. It’s hidden in the corner of the desk, in the dark, and Zayn reaches back to feel around the area. He touches a smooth piece of paper and peels it off the wood, bringing it out to the light.

It’s another photo. An old one, cracked and peeling a bit, but the color’s still well-preserved. What Zayn had seen was bright green, which almost dominates the photo. There’s hills of green grass in the background of the photo, but Zayn’s attention is stuck on the foreground, where he can see the smiling faces of two young boys, standing with their arms around each other’s shoulders. It’s undeniably the teenage versions of Niall and Harry, standing probably somewhere in Ireland. Zayn simultaneously feels the breath rush out of his chest and tears begin to form, and he bites his lip, gently folding the photo along the creases and slipping it into the front pocket of his jacket.

He stands up, grabbing the box, and clears his throat, automatically walking over to the secret entrance. He pulls open the door and sees the lights in the tunnel flick on, and for the first time ever, he’s not afraid of what could be down here. He walks in calmly, finally taking the time to take in the details of the entrance. It’s worn down, probably hasn’t been cleaned in decades, but making his way through it is cleansing, he feels, and when he steps into the back room of the little shop, he sighs, feeling weight lift off his shoulders.

He walks out to the main part of the shop, pausing by the front counter where Eve is sitting, just like she has been for god knows how many years.

“Bye, Eve,” he says, and she looks up at him. She’s never done that before, at least not to Zayn’s knowledge, and she smirks.

“Leaving that place behind, huh?” she asks, and Zayn is too suprised to do anything but nod. “Good. I haven’t liked it much in the last few years.”

“Me neither,” Zayn admits, finally finding his voice. Eve nods.

“Niall wants you to meet him here,” she says, holding out a piece of paper for Zayn.

Zayn takes it and just gapes at her like an idiot. Of _course_ she’s in cahoots with Niall. “I--okay,” he says, dumbly. “Um. Thanks.”

“No problem, darling,” Eve replies, then turns around and shuffles through the small door behind her. Zayn just keeps staring at the empty counter for about five more minutes until he’s finally able to look down at the slip of paper she’d handed to him. There’s an address neatly printed on it in Niall’s handwriting, and Zayn recognizes it immediately. He bites his lip but shoves the paper into his pocket, taking a deep breath and stepping outside.

 

Niall opens the door for him wordlessly when Zayn shows up to Harry and Louis’ apartment.

“Hi,” he says, and pulls Niall into a long hug, only letting go after he feels Niall relax a little bit in his arms. There’s no point asking him how he’s doing, since Zayn is going through the same stuff himself. Instead he lets Niall lead him inside, closing and locking the front door.

The place is practically bare of anything but some furniture, meaning that Niall must’ve already gotten people to help pack up and take the belongings home to the guys’ respective families. Zayn walks up to the coffee table and sets the box down. Niall walks over to it and picks up the photos Zayn had put in the box, smiling wistfully as he looks through them.

“Found this one too,” Zayn says, reaching inside his jacket pocket and pulling out the photo he’d found of a young Niall and Harry. He sees Niall’s expression transform into one of wonder.

“I didn’t even know he had a copy of this photo. I remember taking it, I--wow,” he says, stroking the image of his younger self as if to comfort him. Zayn watches Niall sigh and look up at him, his expression guilty.

“What’s wrong?” Zayn asks, frowning. Niall just shakes his head.

“I’m sorry I never told you about Harry,” he says, crossing his arms. “Maybe if I had, none of this would’ve--maybe he’d still be here, and--” Niall’s voice cracks, and Zayn pulls him into another hug as Niall blinks back tears.

“You did what you thought would keep him safe,” Zayn replies, rubbing a hand down Niall’s back, “and that’s what’s important. I’m sure Harry trusted you with his life.”

Niall scoffs. “Fat lot of good that did him.”

“I don’t think any of us could’ve predicted that this would happen.”

“I guess,” Niall mumbles, leaning back from Zayn. “I just wish we could have _some_ clue of what happened.”

“Yeah, me too,” Zayn replies quietly. He runs a hand through his hair, sighing, and looks down at the box he’d brought. He digs through it some more, pulling out the journals he’d found and all the little post-it notes. He takes out the laptop and plops down onto the sofa, opening the machine and turning it on. It hums and lights up immediately, the login screen popping up.

“I love Stevie,” Niall says, and Zayn turns to him, confused. Niall smiles. “That was his password. Capital I, and the ‘S’ is a dollar sign.”

Zayn smiles back at him, endeared, and types in the phrase. The screen goes black and a loading bar pops up, slowly inching across the screen.

“What’s this?” Niall asks, and Zayn turns to see him pick up the black binder from the box.

“Not sure. I found it on Harry’s desk.”

Niall hums in understanding. He flips the cover open but Harry’s desktop appears right then, making both him and Zayn look over at the laptop. A notification suddenly pops up on the screen.

“ _Your recording has been stopped. Would you like to play back your video?_ ” Zayn reads, and feels Niall lean into his space, the binder forgotten.

“What recording?” Niall asks, echoing Zayn’s thoughts. Zayn doesn’t answer him and clicks ‘ _Yes_ ’, watching as a video player pops up on the screen with a freeze-frame of Harry’s face. 

“ _Um, hello_ ,” Harry says, his voice playing through the speakers. His eyes are red, as if he’s been rubbing at them, and his usually tousled hair looks even more messed up, like he’s been running his fingers through it. “ _I, uh. I just wanted to make this video, because I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt anyone, honestly, and I--_ ” Harry pauses, clearing his throat. “ _Let me just start this over. My name is Harry Styles and I’ve been leaking information to wanted fugitive Niall Horan_.”

“Oh my god,” Niall says, moving the laptop so it’s in between him and Zayn now, both of them watching the screen with rapt attention.

“ _I’ve known Niall since I was a young boy. We grew up together, both of us feeling like we were destined for something that we didn’t want to be a part of. That’s how we bonded, really. I was kind of, um, couch-surfing some years ago, not really doing much but being a trust fund baby. Niall was the one who told me about the opening for this job, and we thought it’d be a right laugh for me to work here. Kind of like, the peak of irony, or something. I never meant to be here for more than maybe six months, or whatever, just wanted to fool around a bit, mess with schedules and details so that Niall wouldn’t get caught. But then I--I met, um. Someone. And they just completely and totally turned my world upside down, and before I knew it I’d been here for, like, five years and everything was just happening so fast. I never meant for anyone to get hurt, like I said, or to put the Service in jeopardy. I love all of you guys, you know that. Everything I did with Niall was just to help him avoid being under surveillance, and it wasn’t even something he asked me to do, it was something I chose to do myself, because he’s one of my best friends. And I know it was irresponsible for me to come here in the first place and to--to leak information, but I never thought it would get to this point, and I--fuck_ ,” Harry stops, suddenly, glancing to his left. He clears his throat, clicks some buttons on his computer, and starts to type.

“What’s--” Niall starts, but then stops, as a second voice playing over the recording.

“ _Morning, Harry_ ,” it says, and Zayn recognizes it instantly.

“ _Morning, Ben_ ,” Harry replies, managing to look incredibly casual. Ben’s not on camera, meaning that he must be on the other side of Harry’s desk. “ _Is that a new belt? I like it_.”

There’s a pause before Ben speaks again. “ _Thanks_.”

“ _Anything you need from me?_ ” Harry asks, and there’s the sound of steps. Ben must be walking around the desk because he appears behind Harry on the video a moment later, peering down at the computer screen curiously.

“ _What’re you working on?_ ” he asks, and Zayn can see how Harry tenses up a bit. He must have his webcam window hidden, because Ben doesn’t seem to notice that anything’s being recorded at the moment. Ben’s got an odd expression on his face, though, and Zayn feels his stomach churn, hoping that he doesn’t see what he thinks he’s going to see.

“ _Just, um, some paperwork_ ,” Harry replies, giving Ben a smile. Ben smirks back and then stands up, unbuckling the aforementioned belt on his waist. Harry stiffens in his seat, his smile falling off his face. “ _Ben, I’ve told you before, I’m not going to--_ ”

“ _Shut up, Styles_ ,” Ben interrupts, yanking the belt out of the loops on his pants and sliding it around Harry’s neck in one smooth motion. Zayn feels his heart drop into his stomach.

“No,” he says, quietly at first, and then louder. “No!”

He feels Niall’s hand reach out and grab his own, Niall’s grip like a vice on his fingers. He’s crushing Zayn’s hand but Zayn can’t even be bothered by the pain, not while he’s watching what’s on the screen in front him.

“ _Ben_ ,” he hears Harry gasp out, clawing at the leather on his neck. He can’t do much, though, not with the way Ben is pulling the belt tight across his adam’s apple.

“ _It’s bad enough that you’re such a little slut_ ,” Ben hisses, pulling the belt even tighter. Harry’s face is bright red, his mouth agape in agony. “ _But a mole, too? Getting fired isn't enough of a punishment for you_.”

Harry’s hands claw for purchase on the desk, obviously trying to grab anything he can throw behind him, but his movements are staggered. Ben grunts, yanking harder, and Harry’s face turns purple. Zayn’s frozen, unable to move. He tries to close his eyes but he can’t even manage to do that, just watches, numb, as Harry gets choked to death in front of him. One more minute passes and then Zayn sees Harry finally go lax, his body slumping back in his chair. Yet another minute passes and Ben finally lets go, sliding his belt off of Harry’s neck. Harry’s body falls forward onto the desk and Zayn recognizes the position as the one he’d found Harry in. He sees Ben breathing hard, wiping at his upper lip and then slipping his belt back around his waist. He clears his throat, looks to his left, then right, and then walks away from the desk. The screen shows nothing but the wall behind Harry’s desk and Harry’s head on the table, motionless. The sound of steps fades off and Zayn can hear the small _ding_ of the lift. The video plays for a couple more minutes, the picture unchanging, and then suddenly cuts off, as if Harry’s laptop had gone to sleep.

Zayn and Niall sit in complete silence for a few minutes, both too shocked to react immediately.

“What the _fuck_ ,” Niall finally says, and Zayn feels himself move on autopilot. He barely knows what he’s doing but he watches himself save the video onto Harry’s desktop and then open up a browser to upload it onto his virtual drive.

“It’s proof,” Zayn says. “We have proof.”

“I didn’t need proof,” Niall says, and he looks murderous. “Louis said it was Ben, and I believed him.”

“I did too,” Zayn assures Niall. “But now everyone else will as well.”

“ _Fuck_ everyone else,” Niall hisses, standing up and starting to pace. The motion’s so fast that the binder he’d had in his lap falls onto the floor, upending its contents onto the carpet. Niall stops his movements, frowning down at one of the pieces of paper at his feet. Zayn can’t read what it says but Niall picks it up, his expression slowly transforming into one of shock.

“What’s that?” Zayn asks, taking the paper as Niall hands it over to him, wordlessly. It looks like a page of notes, but it’s messy as hell, with doodles everywhere. It takes him a second to figure out what all the scribbles are about. When he does, his breath catches. “No,” he says, softly, and feels his stomach sink. “Fuck, Niall, no, this can’t--they--”

Niall moves the binder and picks up a thick stack of envelopes that it’d been hiding. He sifts through them until he gets to one that makes him freeze up. He pulls it out and hands it to Zayn. It has Ben’s name on it.

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Zayn says, his sadness instantly morphing into anger.

“I’m going to kill him,” Niall speaks, finally, his tone hauntingly familiar to Louis’. “I’m going to fucking _end_ him. And don’t tell me I can’t, Zayn.”

Zayn doesn’t say anything, his mind working a mile a minute. There’s no point arguing against it now, and he knows he won’t be able to stop Niall once the man has his mind set on a task. But something about the thought of killing Ben just doesn’t feel _right_. It seems almost hypocritical, in a way, and too easy of a way out. Zayn doubts that Ben will ever feel remorse for what he did, or suffer any kind of consequence, really, unless they approach this situation carefully.

“You can...but you shouldn’t,” he finally replies, and shakes his head at the furious look Niall gives him. “I have a better idea.”

  
\------------


	10. The Attack

\------------

It's dark out, maybe ten, eleven at night. Zayn's leaning against the rough brick wall of the alley, watching amusedly as Niall paces back and forth in front of him.

"Nervous?" he asks, mostly joking, but the small flash in Niall's eyes when the man turns to him has him worried in an instant.

"I--what if I go through with it, Zayn? What if I do it? I might actually do it, I feel so--fuck, I've never felt like this before. Fuck," Niall spits, hands in his hair. He's tugging at the roots, Zayn can tell, and his pupils are dilated too, which isn't a good sign at all.

"Hey," Zayn says, reaching out, and Niall walks over automatically, fitting himself into Zayn's arms. "You're gonna be fine. We're gonna be fine. You're going to look that asshole in the face and do what we talked about."

It's quiet for a few moments, as if Niall's trying to slowly absorb every word Zayn's just said. He hears the blond exhale after a minute though, his breath shaky but his pulse steady. When he tips his head up a bit to look at Zayn, the little bit of light that's floating through the alley catches his eyes and they're back to being mostly blue.

"Okay," Niall says, then pulls the two of them into an even darker corner, pressing their lips together almost desperately, as if he's trying to gain some courage from this, trying to ground himself so he doesn't get carried away. Zayn doesn't fight back. He lets Niall take and take until they're both out of breath, collapsed against the wall, and the dopey, cocky smile is back on Niall's face, his confidence reappearing. "Yeah, let's do this."

 

They don't have to wait much longer--maybe only five minutes or so--before the dull brown door in front of them opens quietly and a lone figure walks out, bag in hand. He turns towards the two of them, as if he can sense their presence, but Zayn knows it's too dark to make anything out, so the man walks towards the small circle of light from the high, dingy bulb that's practically cemented into the wall.

"It's now or never," Niall whispers, voice so quiet that Zayn has to strain his ears to hear, even though they're right next to each other. Niall walks over to where the figure is standing, absorbed in his phone, his posture relaxed and unaware--the perfect time to strike, really.

Niall's like a snake when he wants to be, Zayn realizes, sly and silent, his attack deadly. He watches as the blond easily wraps his arms around the larger man's shoulders, crushing his throat and quickly bringing him to his knees.

"Hey, Ben," Niall says, and Zayn walks a bit closer so he's right outside the spread of light.

Niall kicks Ben’s bag away--Zayn knows he's the kind of guy to carry a firearm with him everywhere he goes--and deftly pats Ben down, proving himself right when he easily pulls out a small gun as well as two or three knife blades hidden in his sock, his shoe, and even his underwear. Zayn never thought he'd have to see Niall's hands down Ben’s pants in any situation but he supposes he's got to sacrifice _something_ in order to get away with this.

"Just how I like 'em," Niall says, after Ben’s been stripped of his weapons, his possessions, and hopefully, his dignity. Niall grins. "Have a good workout?"

Ben looks up at Niall, his gaze blazing. "Horan. How did you know I'd be here? No one knows about this place."

"Oh. Well, you see, Ben," Niall says, kneeling down so he's just above Ben’s eye level, "you're a spy. And I shouldn't have to be the one to remind you that even spies get spied on."

"What--"

"But enough chit-chat," Niall continues, rising to his feet, clapping his hands. "We came here for a job and we've got to finish it."

" _We_?" Ben asks, and Niall grins.

"I _may_ have an accomplice. It all depends."

Zayn sees Ben gulp. He tries to take a steadying breath, but the slight quiver of his throat gives him away. It's so utterly satisfying to be able to catalogue Ben’s tells like this.

"On what?" Ben asks, eyes locked with Niall's.

Niall smiles even wider. He takes a step back and sizes Ben up. "On how much you beg."

Then, in one swift move, Niall pulls out his gun, cocks it, and fires a clean shot right through Ben’s left knee. The shock of it is enough to not have Ben reacting until a few seconds after the attack, his eyes widening and face crumbling at the pain in a comically late fashion. He lets out a loud cry of pain and Zayn feels it echo through his own veins, his blood burning with renewed fervor.

"That was for Louis," Niall says, and he's not smiling anymore. In fact, he's got kind of a blank look on his face, his eyes slightly glazed over.

Before Ben can truly recover or even sit up straight again, Niall shoots through his other knee, the loud _crack_ of the bone breaking bouncing off the walls of the alley. Zayn would be worried about being caught if he didn't know how rabid Niall was at the moment, ready to attack anyone that may come for him. Even he doesn't feel like he could break through to Niall at this point--plus he's here for a different reason, both of them know that--so he hangs back, just watching Ben suffer on the ground in front of him, the blood pooling rapidly around his calves, soaking into the soft-looking cotton of his sweats.

"That was for Harry," Niall adds, not even fazed by how hard Ben’s shaking now, both in pain and fear, because this is probably the most vulnerable he's ever been in his entire life. Here, crippled, at the unforgiving hands of someone he's been trying to track down and capture for years.

Zayn's sure this is going to be over soon; he’d made sure to meticulously plan out all that Niall was to do during this attack. He’s still caught by surprise, though, when he hears Ben slur shakily through the one sentence he'd hoped he wouldn't have to hear.

"Where's Zayn?"

He glances up, watches as Niall pauses and throws a quick look over into the darkness where Zayn's hiding. Zayn sighs. They'd made a deal with each other, he can't ignore that, so he goes ahead and steps out in front of Ben.

" _Zayn_ ," Ben mumbles, eyes already drooping, partly from pain, partly from the immense loss of blood. He looks almost angelic at this moment, completely set free, the constant frown lines so often creased into his forehead now almost wiped away. He looks peaceful, settled. It makes Zayn feel sick.

"We're not going to kill you, Ben," he says, and Ben blinks his eyes open slowly, as if he's struggling through it. His arms are flopped limp in his lap, his shoulders slack, and he squints up at Zayn before his head lolls forward of its own accord so that he's forced to look down at his decimated knees.

"Not completely, at least," Niall quips, then pulls out a small switchblade from his pocket. He flips it open, letting it gleam in the light a bit, before stepping behind Ben and looking over to Zayn for approval.

Zayn notices Niall's in position but spares himself one last glance at Ben like this, weak and drained of power and life, before giving Niall a terse nod of permission and turning away. He hears the knife enter Ben just once in a precise, calculated, fairly painless stroke.

“Death isn't enough of a punishment for you,” he hears Niall mutter, in a bittersweet parody of Ben’s own words. Zayn wills himself to feel satisfied, or smug, or, at the very least, at peace--but he doesn't feel a damn thing.

 

\-------------


	11. The Hospital

\------------

The hospital is cold--well, colder than most Zayn's been to, and he's been in his fair share. He walks down the halls easily, smiling kindly at those who spare him a glance, because he needs to look like this, like he belongs, like his heart is full of heavy emotions and he's here to visit a long-time friend.

"Hey," Niall says, easily sliding out of what's probably a supply closet. Zayn’s stopped trying to figure out how Niall gets to these places. Instead he just gives him a smile, this one genuine, reaching out for his hand.

Niall falls into step with Zayn and his hand slides into Zayn's, the two of them fitting together so well. Zayn feels like he's going to burst with pride, having this clever, beautiful man next to him, his missing puzzle piece. Even though the atmosphere around him is unnerving, he’s never felt this whole.

Neither of them talk as they walk towards the intensive care wing of the building, but Zayn's sure that Niall can feel how sweaty his palm is, which is ridiculous. Zayn doesn't like feeling nervous. But this is different than the alley a couple weeks back. This time there's innocent bystanders and people who can get him and Niall into trouble. This time there's more at stake, even though this time, they're not doing anything illegal at all.

"Hello," Zayn says, folding his hands on the top of a desk. A nurse looks up at him and Zayn beams, smiling wide and fake until he can see that the nurse melts a little bit. He's never been more thankful for his face.

"Um. Zayn, right?" the girl answers, and she looks young, probably just out of school. She's blushing a bit, and he hears Niall scoff in annoyance. "I remember you from a couple weeks back. I don't--is that creepy? I'm sorry. Um. This way," she mumbles, flustered, walking off in front of the two men.

Zayn nudges Niall's shoulder with his own. "You're cute when you're jealous."

Niall scowls and walks forward, leaving Zayn behind, but Zayn laughs and catches up to the blond, slipping his arm around the man's waist. 

"Don't worry," he whispers, into Niall's ear, and feels Niall shiver a bit in his arms. "You're the only one for me."

When they reach the room they came to visit, they find the nurse glancing nervously between their eyes and where Zayn's arm is snug against Niall. Niall cocks an eyebrow and the nurse clears her throat.

"You're just--you're gonna have to clear past the patient's personal security," she mutters, then fast-walks back down the hallway to where she came from. 

Zayn frowns. "Security?" Niall asks, and Zayn shrugs before opening up the door to the room.

"Oh," Zayn says, looking over at where Josh is sitting in a chair in the far side of the room. He looks bored, to say the least, but seems to perk up when Zayn walks in. His expression darkens, though, when he sees Niall follow him in. 

"Get out," he says, through gritted teeth, and Niall rolls his eyes.

" _ Please _ , Devine," he mutters, and then walks closer to Ben’s bed.

Josh is up on his feet in the blink of an eye, pushing Niall up against a wall, his forearm pressed tight against Niall’s throat.

"I'll kill you, Horan. I have orders to. Now get out."

Even with his throat crushed, Niall manages to gasp out a laugh. "I'd like to see-- _ ah _ \--see you try--"

Zayn watches the two, slightly amused, before he clears his throat. 

"Let him go, Josh."

Josh turns to look at Zayn, surprised, but slowly lowers his arm until Niall's feet are back on the ground. Niall glares at him, walking back over next to Zayn and crossing his arms over his chest.

"Look, Josh. We're not here to kill Ben," Zayn explains, and Josh's eyes flick from Niall to Zayn and back.

" _ We _ ?" he says, then shakes his head. "No. I heard rumors, Zayn, that you--that you switched sides or something, but--no, I  _ stood up _ for you, Zayn, you--"

"Calm yourself, man," Niall scolds, his voice still a little hoarse. He clears his throat. "If I had wanted to kill Winston, I would've done it a week ago, when I had him groveling in an alley, begging for his life."

Josh's expression darkens and Zayn smacks Niall on his arm. "Shut up." 

He looks back to Josh. "Look. I know your orders are to kill us or disarm us or hurt us or whatever but I have to warn you, Josh, that if you do try to do that, I  _ will _ defend myself, and the last thing I want to do right now is hurt you. You understand?"

Josh blinks at Zayn but then nods, his face still tense. "I just--I don't understand why. Ben’s been--he's always been so good to us. He'd never do anything bad or awful or--"

Niall snorts, and Josh shoots him a murderous look. Zayn sighs. 

"You'd be surprised, Josh," he says quietly, and then reaches into his jacket pocket, pulling out his phone and typing out a text to the younger man. He sees Josh pull out his own phone when it buzzes and frown confusedly at the file-sharing link.

"What is this?" Josh asks, and Zayn shrugs. 

"Step outside. Open it and find out."

 

\------------

 

"Hey, Ben," Zayn says, sitting down on the chair he's pulled up next to Ben’s bed. Niall stands on the opposite side of the room, refusing to sit down just yet, his expression dark. "How're you doing?"

"I hope it hurts like fucking hell," Niall mutters, but Zayn's gaze stays on Ben’s unmoving face, his eyes dull and dark, staring up at the ceiling mindlessly. His skin looks paler and he looks like he’s aged five years, at least. The monitor next to him beeps continuously, a steady heartbeat the only indicator that he’s alive at all.

"The doctors say that you're conscious. That you can hear us. And that you can still move your eyes, or even speak, if you really want to," Zayn continues, but Ben stays still. Zayn clears his throat. 

"I don't know if you expect me to be sorry--because I'm not. But I'm not happy I did this either, to be honest. I genuinely feel absolutely nothing towards this whole situation and the fact that you're hurt. I do resent you hurting the people I love, though, and that's pretty much unforgivable for me. I--" Zayn pauses, his voice breaking. He sighs and blinks a couple times. "I know you had a lot on your plate when Geoff died, and you were trying to be the the tough leader you thought he’d want you to be. But you went about it in a totally incorrect way. Geoff had something you didn’t--he was so full of compassion, so understanding of love. We didn’t have to fear him or hate him to respect him, and for some reason, it seemed like your ultimate goal was to make us all detest you.”

Ben still doesn’t move, staring up at the ceiling. Zayn looks over at Niall, who gives him a nod, encouraging him to continue.

“And Liam-- _ god _ , Ben, Liam had so much potential. He was just like his father, y’know? The only reason he didn’t become the head of the Service was because he was a little too young. I honestly think the worst thing Geoff ever did was to make you his successor. You fucked this up. You fucked all of us up, and now we’re here. You’re a vegetable and I’m still in mourning.”

"I don't know if you think we're here to pull your plug or to put you out of your misery. Because we're not," Niall chimes in, moving closer to the bed. He leans against the side rail and watches Ben’s face for any sign of movement. "The whole point of this, Winston, is to make you suffer through this for the rest of your life. To make you think about Harry and Louis every waking second. To force you to sit here and watch the name you’ve tried so hard to build up for yourself come crumbling down in three minutes.”

That finally gets a reaction out of Ben, who glances over at Niall. 

“I know what you’re thinking--three minutes? Why?” Niall says, hopping onto the bed and crossing his legs.

“We have a video, Ben,” Zayn says, and Ben’s eyes slide over to him. 

“God knows you liked your security cameras,” Niall adds, “but did you really think just disabling the ones in the lobby would be good enough?”

It takes Ben a second but he gets it. The moment he realizes is almost comical, because even with all the tubes in his nose and mouth, Zayn can read his shocked expression.

“Harry was recording a video message when you killed him,” Zayn explains. “And I have his laptop. We have a video of the whole thing.”

Niall gets off the bed and leans in close to Ben’s face. Ben’s eyes have resumed staring at the ceiling but Zayn can read the worry in them.

“It took you three minutes to kill Harry,” Niall whispers, furious. “And it’s only going to take three minutes for everyone to see how much of a fucking monster you are.”

There’s a small gurgle from Ben and Niall smirks.

“Too late, Winston. You’re going to be stuck here. Good luck finding any security detail from the Service.”

"No one's going to shut your machines off," Zayn says, looking up at the ceiling, trying to figure out if he can pinpoint the one spot Ben’s been focusing on. "You cut off all ties with your remaining family, like a total prick, and I’m your emergency contact."

Ben makes another sound and Zayn looks back down, meeting his gaze.

“You didn’t have one when I brought you in here, Ben, because you’re just  _ that _ much of a douchebag, so naturally, the position was assigned to me,” Zayn explains.

"Nothing can be done to you without Zayn's consent and permission. And fuck if he's going to give anyone permission to kill you. He just…he  _ cares _ about you so much," Niall says, mock concern on his face. "Why would such a  _ dear _ friend ever want to see you die?” 

"Niall," Zayn says, sighing, and Niall rolls his eyes and walks back over to the wall. Zayn takes another breath. "Anyways, Ben, we just stopped by because we wanted to update you on your situation. But we also wanted to update you on something else.” 

Zayn reaches into his jacket, pulling out the envelope that’d been burning a hole in his pocket since he’d walked into the hospital. He holds it up just above Ben’s face, watches as Ben scans over the ' _ Mr. Ben Winston _ ' printed on the front and takes all the little details, like the light blue lettering and the little embroidered flowers around the corners.

"Let me read it to you," Zayn says, and steadies himself before sliding the thick card stock out. " _ You are cordially invited to celebrate the wedding of Harry Styles and _ \--" Zayn pauses, his breath hitching, "-- _ and Louis Tomlinson _ ."

"They were going to send you a  _ fucking _ wedding invitation, you absolute fucking  _ asshole _ !" Niall cries, racing forward and gripping the rail around Ben’s bed again, shaking it violently. Ben’s heart rate starts speed up.

" _ Niall _ ," Zayn warns, again, and Niall's cheeks turn red as he furiously blinks back tears. He lets go of the railing, though.

"They were in  _ love _ and they were ready to invite you to their  _ wedding _ ," he hisses, and Ben blinks. "And you  _ killed _ them, you immeasurable  _ twat _ . You're a fucking ruthless prick. You don't deserve to be the leader of  _ anything _ . You deserve to lay here and rot away, die a painful death, and then spend the rest of eternity burning in hell." Niall starts to walk away, and Zayn can see that he's full-on crying at this point. "I hope it hurts, Winston. I hope it fucking pains you for the rest of your pathetic life."

Niall races out of the room, the door banging shut behind him. Zayn turns to look at Ben and watches as Ben blinks once more, a tear falling out from the corner of his eye. 

"I think our visit here is over," Zayn says, standing up quietly, trying to ignore the way Ben’s breathing is getting heavier. "We're probably not going to be visiting you ever again, Niall and I, so. This is goodbye, I guess." 

Zayn walks over to the door, hand on the knob, and takes a deep breath before twisting it and walking into the hallway. 

 

Niall’s nowhere to be found when Zayn walks around the corner, but that’s not too out-of-place--Zayn wouldn’t be surprised if he was in the same supply closet as before. He’s worried about Josh, though, and finally spots him sitting in a small waiting area down the hall.

“Josh,” Zayn says, walking up to him and sitting in the chair across from him. He doesn’t say anything else, though, waiting for Josh to get his thoughts together.

“I don’t want to be near him right now,” Josh says, and Zayn catches the red in his eyes and the crumpled tissues in his hand. “Or ever.”

“Understandable,” Zayn assures him.

“Who else has seen that?” Josh asks.

“You’re the first one outside of me and Niall. We’re going to be sending it out to all of the senior agents in a couple hours.”

To Zayn’s surprise, Josh nods. “Good. I--that’s good,” he says, then his face crumples. “I’m--Zayn, I’m so sorry, I had no idea, and I was just doing what they told me to do--”

“Hey, Josh, don’t--” Zayn stands up, sitting in the chair next to Josh and pulling him in for a hug. The kid’s young, as young as Zayn was when he started, and he’s probably going through a rollercoaster of emotions right now.

“It’s nothing to blame yourself for. Thank you for trusting me enough to let me in there,” he continues, and Josh nods, sighing and pulling away.

“Are you ever going to come back?” he asks, quietly, and Zayn pauses, then shakes his head guiltily.

“I don’t think so. I don’t know if Liam could ever really forgive me, and I don’t--I’m not sure I’ll ever really forgive Liam, either.”

Josh bites his lip, nodding. The two of them are quite for a few minutes and Zayn is pleased to hear Josh’s breathing even out.

“Do you think it’d be okay for me to leave?” Josh asks. Zayn smirks.

“Listen to your heart, and do what it tells you to,” he answers, standing up. “And remember that through everything you do, okay?” 

Josh nods, looking at Zayn reverently. “Thanks, Zayn.”

“I’ll catch you around,” Zayn says, and Josh gives him a small smile. Zayn turns and walks away, trying not to get too emotional. 

It’s not until he walks outside that he remembers that he still doesn’t know where Niall is. He feels around for his phone but stops when he glances at the parking lot of the hospital and sees a blonde man sitting on the hood of a black SUV. He walks over, cocking his head as he takes in the view of Niall leaning back on his arms, his eyes closed and face turned towards the sun.

“Stop staring at me, it’s creepy,” Niall says, and Zayn grins.

“How do you feel?” he asks, and Niall shrugs. 

“Better than before,” he answers, and Zayn understands. He doesn’t know how long it’ll take for him to be able to think about Harry and Louis without breaking down, but it’s a work in progress, he supposes.

“So where to now, Horan?” he asks. Niall opens his eyes and turns to look at Zayn. He looks tired but less stressed than the last couple of months, which Zayn counts as a win. Niall gives Zayn a smirk and shrugs. 

“I go wherever you go, Malik,” he replies, and, well. Isn’t that the truth.

 

\------------


	12. The End

\------------

“How much longer do we have to walk?” Zayn asks, jumping again as he feels his sandal hit a bump on the concrete. Niall had pulled him out of their hotel room excitedly this morning, practically tossing him in the car and speeding the two of them over to a ‘surprise location’. He’d slipped a blindfold on Zayn, then, leading him out of the car and on what still feels like a mile-long walk.

“Oops, sorry, should’ve seen that,” Niall laughs, rubbing Zayn’s shoulders as he guides him forward. “Anyways, just a few more steps, and--okay, open your eyes!”

Zayn blinks his eyes open, squinting as they adjust to the light. At first he can’t really see anything but a whole lot of white--but then, as his eyes focus, he’s able to make out the details, and his jaw drops.

“Is this--” he starts to ask.

“Yup,” Niall says, looking smug.

“You bought a  _ house _ ?” Zayn says, laughing amazedly as he walks into the foyer.

“I bought  _ us _ a house,” Niall clarifies, and Zayn beams at him, grabbing his hand as he walks from room to room.

“Oh my god, Niall, it’s fucking gorgeous,” Zayn breathes, as he steps into the family room. One wall, where Zayn would expect a television to be, is completely blank, but Zayn catches the projector hanging from the ceiling. Fancy. He turns to the other wall behind him and freezes in place. “Holy shit.”

“Surprise!”

“Niall…”

“It’s fake, it’s fake. Not the real one.” 

Zayn gives Niall a disbelieving look.

“Fuck,” Niall groans. “Okay, yeah, it is the real one. But I got a good friend to do an amazing decoy of it and I put it back in that vault. Which, by the way, those people still haven’t opened, so. I told you so.”

“By ‘good friend’, do you mean that you just found a huge canvas and painted it yourself to match this?” Zayn asks, gesturing to the huge painting in front of him.

“Well, I mean,” Niall shrugs, but has the decency to look a little guilty. “It’s literally just a white line on a blue background, Zayn. I still don’t get it.”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “Then why did you hang it up in your house?”

“I hung it up in  _ our _ house,” Niall corrects him again, giving him a pointed look, “because you love this painting, and I love you.”

Zayn shakes his head, but he’s grinning wide. “You do, huh?”

“Zayn.  _ I bought us a house _ ,” Niall reiterates, and Zayn bursts into laughter. 

He turns and pulls Niall close to him, giving him a soft kiss and letting it slowly get more and more heated until the two of them are practically panting into each other’s mouths.

“You wanna christen the couch? Or the bedroom? Or--” Zayn looks over his shoulder, “--uh, the kitchen?”

“How about, um,” Niall pauses, pretending to think, “all of the above?”

“You’re ridiculous,” Zayn mutters, but lets Niall lead him upstairs. Right as they step up onto the second floor, though, Zayn’s breath is taken away by the large marbled balcony in front of him. “Wow,” he breathes, looking out at the gorgeous hillside in front of him. 

He turns to look at Niall, watching how he looks out at the view with the same kind of wonder. Niall looks older, now that he’s let all the blond grow out of his hair and has grown a bit of scruff. Zayn knows he’s gone through some physical changes himself, what with his practically shoulder-length locks and clean-shaven face, but he can see the youth and calm restored in his expression every time he looks into a mirror. He still does a double-take sometimes, finding it hard to even recognize himself now. He remembers waking up to constant dark circles and tired eyes, running on empty for days before he had a chance to recharge. When he looks at his life now, at how fulfilled he feels just by standing next to Niall, he can’t even remember why he ever thought that working as an agent was the life for him.

“What?” Niall asks him, as Zayn reaches up to comb a hand through Niall’s hair.

“Nothing, really,” Zayn murmurs, smiling. “Just thinking about how fucking happy I am.”

“Yeah?” Niall asks, grinning as he slides his hands around Zayn’s waist. “How about we christen the balcony first, then?”

Zayn laughs, letting Niall kiss him slowly, softly, till he fears that his heart just might burst from how much joy he’s feeling at the moment. He smiles and lets go, sighing, letting Niall pull him in.

 

\------------

 

FIN.

 

\------------

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all, hope you enjoyed the fic :) Thanks for sticking through it all, haha. 
> 
> [Tumblr post is available here!](http://slashter.tumblr.com/post/160970578805/bombshell-blond-wired-up-to-detonate-rating)  
> (If you liked the fic, and you'd be willing to reblog it, that'd be amazing!!)
> 
> You can find me on [Tumblr](http://slashter.tumblr.com) and [Twitter](http://twitter.com/slashter_fic)!


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